JBeajson, tfattlj, auti W>uty. 

Sermons 



PREACHED CHIEFLY IN THE COLLEGE CHAPEL 



BY 

JAMES WALKER, D.D., LLD, 

LATE PRESIDENT OF HARVARD COLLEGE. 




BOSTON: 
ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
1877. 



Copyright, 1876, 
By Roberts Brothers. 



CAMBRIDGE: 
PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON. 



The revered author of these Discourses should not he held 
responsible for their publication. Long since, he gave to the 
flames far the greater part of his unpublished Sermons. After 
repeatedly refusing the friend, to whom he had given the scanty 
remnant, the privilege of publishing a portion of them, he allowed 
his scruples to be in a measure overcome, at the time of their 
last interview. 

Should any surviving friend of President Walker ash 
whether he himself valued one of these Sermons above another, 
we might reply, The only one, hitherto unpublished, which he 
designated, is that " Upon^the Sin of being Led Astray." 



INTRODUCTION. 



HOULD there be found any one to ask, " Who was James 



Walker ? " there are many to answer, " He was the man 
who first made me believe that religion is a real thing : in my 
college days, the strength of his logic, and the majesty of his 
earnestness, took my mind and heart captive." 

Others, whose memories go back further, will reply, " More 
than all men else, he was 4 a son of consolation ' when my 
house was left unto me desolate." And they will add, " He 
built up a strong parish from slender beginnings ; his church 
in Charlestown stood like a lighthouse to warn the young, 
from far and near, of their perils ; wherever he preached, he 
was listened to as if men saw in his every look and word the 
unmistakable credentials of a i great ambassador. ' In the 
homes of the people he was simple as a child, yet profound 
as a philosopher ; at one moment overflowing with pungent 
humor, his countenance the next moment eloquent with 
pathetic seriousness. ' ' 

He was a man unrivalled in sententious conversation, one 
who, in later life, drew toward him the mingled homage and 
respect of the learned men around him in other chairs of the 
College which he honored successively as Professor and Presi- 
dent ; the man on whose counsel the student pre-eminently 
relied, when his mind was vexed with those problems which 
concern themselves with the conduct of life, or the choice 
of a profession. And he lived to grow old ; he went gently 
to his rest with the benedictions of pupils following him from 
their widely scattered homes, with the gratitude of the 




vi 



INTRODUCTION. 



broken households who yet survived to revere the Pastor who 
ha$ served them more than thirty years before. 

Never devoid of catholicity of spirit, the vehemence of 
the youthful theologian became more and more mellowed by 
a wide course of reading, and through the experience of life, 
until at last we saw in him an impersonation of the apostolic 
" meekness of wisdom," the like of which, in this world, we 
can scarce believe that our eyes shall rest upon again. 

Is it too much to hope, that without the magic of that voice 
which filled all the chambers of the soul which it pierced, 
without that jxleading look which compelled the prodigal to 
" come to himself," without the kingly silence in which the 
preacher seemed to stand enthroned, without the retinue of 
thirsting eyes which we saw fastened upon him, — these words 
of his, saved from the ashes to which he had almost doomed 
them, may fan the embers of our better natures into a flame 
of heartier consecration? 

* James Walker was born in Burlington (near Woburn) , 
Mass., Aug. 16, 1794. He was fitted for Harvard College 
(which he entered in 1810) under Mr. Caleb Butler, Preceptor 
of the Groton Academy. 

He delivered the second English oration at his graduation, 
in 1814. Among the classmates gathered before him, when he 
appeared as their class-orator that year, were the late Rev. Dr. 
Greenwood, and the historian, Prescott. Upon leaving col- 
lege, he spent a year at Exeter, N". H. , as an assistant teacher 
in connection with the memorable Dr. Benjamin Abbot, 
Principal of " Phillips Exeter Academy." 

The two subsequent years he passed in the pursuit of his 
Theological studies at Cambridge, graduating in the class 
which first left the Divinity School, in 1817. 

* In the preparation of this biographical notice, we have been very 
much aided by a discriminating and beautiful sketch of President 
Walker, prepared by Professor Joseph Lovering, his life-long friend, for 
the "American Academy of Arts and Sciences." 



INTRODUCTION. 



vii 



After declining an invitation to settle in Lexington, Mass., 
he was ordained as the Pastor of the Harvard Church, in 
Charlestown, Mass., Feb. 11, 1818. During the twenty-one 
years of this ministry (which was a ministry to the social and 
educational interests of the town, as well as to his own parish), 
he was challenged again and again to come forth as a leader, 
upon conspicuous occasions. In 1832, he addressed " the cit- 
izens of Charlestown upon the one hundredth anniversary of 
Washington's birth-day." His ringing voice, bidding men 
" be of good cheer," carried courage to many a faint-hearted 
church and its youthful minister, upon the day of ordination . 
The pages of the " Christian Examiner " bear witness to his 
zeal in " every good word and work." Besides many contri- 
butions at other periods to its pages, he was its sole editor 
between the years 1831 and 1839. But a change of employ- 
ment was at hand. 

He retired from his auspicious ministry in Charlestown, 
July 11, 1839, that he might become " Alford Professor of 
Xatural Theology, Moral Philosophy, and Civil Polity ' ' in 
Harvard College. The public foresaw his illustrious career 
at Cambridge (for his name had been suggested in some 
quarters as a candidate for President as early as the date 
of the lamented President Kirkland's resignation in 1828). 
But we cannot wonder that his devoted parish clung to 
him to the very last, and interposed every possible solicita- 
tion to compel him to decline this invitation to the Alford 
Professorship. Xor were they wholly alone in their regrets. 
In the many homes in which Dr. Walker was enthusiastically 
welcomed, when he made an exchange of pulpits," there 
must have been those among old and young, whose hearts 
sadly testified that this summons, "Friend, go up higher," 
betokened their being left, far more than before, beyond the 
range of his voice or the clasp of his hand. After leaving 
the impress of his character upon many successive classes 
who were brought into more familiar relations with him than 
often happens at college, at the expiration of fourteen years 



viii 



INTRODUCTION. 



(in 1853) he was transferred from the Professor's chair to the 
office of President; which latter post he filled with signal 
ability during the ensuing seven years, until, in 1860, his im- 
paired health counselled his resignation. But this event did 
not remove him from all concern in the interests of the Col- 
lege which he had loved so intensely all his life ; the College 
towards which he had long since taught the eyes of Charles- 
town boys to look wistfully. To its councils he had been 
called thirty-five years previous as Overseer ; of its Corporation 
he had been a member for nineteen years, before he became 
its President. And now, after a brief respite, we find him 
once more, for ten years, a member of the Board of Overseers. 

He survived his retirement from the Presidency more than 
fourteen years. He had so meekly borne the honors with 
which men had crowned him, that these later years of com- 
parative retirement were not rendered insipid from lack of 
excitement, but were, as he alleged, among his happiest; save 
only that a portion of them were overshadowed by the death 
of the wife, who for nearly forty years had been the com- 
panion of his studies, and the eager dispenser of his hospi- 
tality. Mrs. Catherine Walker (daughter of Dr. George 
Bartlett of Charlestown, Mass.,) died June 13, 1868, aged 70. 

On his eightieth birth-day, Aug. 16, 1874, through the 
happy instigation of his life-long friend, Rev. Dr. Samuel 
Osgood, of New York, a beautiful cup and salver were pre- 
sented to him by friends who had known and loved him in 
Charlestown, Cambridge, and elsewhere. A few weeks pre- 
vious, he had the rare felicity of welcoming at his dinner 
table, upon Commencement Day, seven of his surviving 
classmates. 

Dr. Walker edited " Reid's Essay on the Intellectual 
Powers, abridged, with notes from Sir William Hamilton," 
and Dugald Stewart's " Philosophy of the Active and Moral 
Powers of Man." 

In 1810, and for three consecutive years, he delivered 
courses of lectures, before the Lowell Institute, upon Natu- 



INTRODUCTION. 



ix 



ral Religion, which excited a very deep and wide-spread 
interest. 

In 1863, a memoir of Hon. Daniel Appleton White, of 
Salem, Mass., was printed, which Dr. Walker had prepared 
at the request of the Massachusetts Historical Society; and 
in 1867, he prepared a memoir, for the same society, of 
President Quincy. 

The fervor of his patriotism was attested alike at the be- 
ginning and at the close of our gigantic civil war. In 1861, 
he published a kindling discourse, delivered in King's Chapel, 
Boston, upon " The Spirit proper to the Times." The ora- 
tion which he delivered, in 1863, before the Alumni of 
Harvard College, remains in its massive simplicity an in- 
spiring memorial of his patriotic counsels. 

A former series of sermons was published by him after his 
retirement from the College Presidency.* 

He died Dec. 23, 1874. His remains rest in Forest Hills 
Cemetery, West Roxbury. 

w. o. w. 

Keene, N". H., 

October, 1876. 

The compiler takes great pleasure in acknowledging the 
assistance of Rev. Henry W. Foote, of Boston, in the prep- 
aration of this volume for the press. 



* Dr. "Walker testified his attachment to Harvard University in the 
gift, by his will (with liberal increase), of the timely and generous ben- 
efaction which his friends had sent him upon his resigning the office 
of President. This bequest amounted to fifteen thousand dollars. In 
addition, he gave the College, in the same instrument, his entire library. 
He bequeathed one thousand dollars each to the American Unitarian As- 
sociation, and to the "Society for the Relief of Aged and Indigent 
Clergymen." 



CONTENTS. 



I. Page 
Religion not a Science, but a Want .... 1 

n. 

Man's Competency to know God 18 

in. 



The Philosophy of Man's Spiritual Nature in 



Regard to the Foundations of Faith ... 37 

nr. 

Providence 62 

V. 

Spiritual Death 88 

VI. 

Means of Strengthening an Infirm Faith . . 105 
VII. 

Nominal Christians 125 

VIII. 

The Daily Cross 137 

IX. 



On Keeping the Promises we Make to Ourselves 156 



xii CONTENTS. 

X. Page 

Jesus Christ made Perfect through Sufferings 172 
XI. 

He Knew what was in Man 185 

xn. 

Spiritual Discernment 202 

XIII. 

Public Opinion 222 

XIV. 

Am I not in Sport? 241 

XY. 

Honesty 257 

XYI. 

The Dangers of College Life . 272 

XVII. 

White Lies 288 

xvm. 

HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL 306 

XIX. 

On the Sin of being Led Astray 321 

XX. 

The YoUNg Man's Dream of Life 335 



CONTENTS. 



xiii 



XXI. 

Moral Distinctions not Sufficiently Regarded 

in Social Intercourse 358 

XXII. 

St. Thomas, or the Doubting Disciple .... 373 
XXIII. 

The Sermon on the Mount ....... \ 392 

XXIV. 

The Power of Christ's Resurrection .... 409 
XXV. 

Our Duty in Respect to Other Men's Consciences 424 
XXVI. 

Perfection the Christian's Aim 440 



REASON, FAITH, AND DUTY. 



SERMONS. 



I. 

RELIGION NOT A SCIENCE, BUT A WANT. 

" As the hartpanteth after the icater-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, 
0 God! My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I 
come and appear before God?" — Psalm xvii. 1, 2. 

/r ~pHE beautiful and plaintive psalm from which 
my text is taken appears to be the composi- 
tion of a Hebrew captive and exile, moaning over 
his hard fate in being doomed to live in a strange 
land and among an idolatrous people. Continually 
derided by those around him for still trusting in 
Jehovah, by whom he had been to all appearance 
forsaken ; shocked and disgusted by the impure 
and cruel rites he was witnessing from day to day, 
— his heart yearned to be back among his country- 
men, and take part once more in the only worship 
which was worship to him, which met and satisfied 
an irrepressible longing of his spiritual nature. 44 As 
the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth 
my soul after thee, O God ! My soul thirsteth for 

1 A 



2 



RELIGION NOT A SCIENCE, 



God, for the living God : when shall I come and 
appear before God ? " 

I am aware of no words in Scripture, nor indeed 
in any other book, which so strongly express the 
soul's need of religion. They will therefore intro- 
duce very properly what I am going to say on that 
subject. I cannot help thinking that many per- 
plexities in matters of faith would be cleared up, 
and many so-called religious controversies be set at 
rest, if men would accustom themselves to look 
upon religion not as a science, but as a want. 

First of all, let me explain as clearly as I can 
what is meant when religion is spoken of as being 
not a science, but a want. 

You know how it is with man's relations to 
society ; — society is not a science, but a want. Of 
course, we can make society a matter of science ; 
that is to say, we can speculate about the origin 
of society, and about what constitutes a true so- 
ciety, and come to the same or to different conclu- 
sions, or to no conclusion, on the subject. But 
these speculations do not make society any more, 
or any less, a want of our nature. The want is 
founded in needs and cravings which pertain to 
our nature itself, and exist antecedently to all 
speculation, and independently of it. 

So it is with religion. Some, perhaps, will object 
that there is no analogy between the two laws here 



BUT A WANT. 



3 



supposed ; or, at any rate, that the analogy fails in 
an essential point. They may say our want of 
society can be traced back to an instinct implanted 
in our nature, — the instinct of sympathy ; just as 
our want of knowledge can be traced back to 
another instinct implanted in our nature, — the in- 
stinct of curiosity : but there is no such special 
instinct to which we can trace back our want of 
religion, — the soul's thirst for the living God. To 
this, however, I would reply : when we refer to 
special instincts in man we must not make them to 
be separate entities, the aggregate of which consti- 
tutes human nature. Human nature is a single 
entity ; and these instincts, as that term is here 
used, are but the spontaneous and controlling tend- 
encies which this nature manifests in the process 
of its development : and one of these spontaneous 
and controlling tendencies is to religion, — to reli- 
gion of some sort or other. 

Again, you know how it is with morality ; — mo- 
rality is not a science, but a want. Of course, 
we can make morality a matter of science ; that is 
to say, we can speculate about its foundation and 
motive and end, and the result will be a system of 
ethics. But men do not become moral beings by 
the study of ethics, any more than they become 
rational beings by the study of logic. Men are 
moral beings because they have a moral nature; 



4 



BE LI G ION NOT A SCIENCE, 



that is, a conscience, an innate, inextinguishable 
sense of right, which makes morality to be a want. 

In the same sense, and for the same reason, re- 
ligion is not a science, but a want. I do not mean 
that there is no such thing as a science of religion ; 
but this I say, — the scheme of religion is not re- 
ligion, any more than the science of friendship is 
friendship. We speculate about God and immor- 
tality, about faith and prayer, and the terms of the 
Divine acceptance, and come to various conclu- 
sions ; and these various conclusions constitute our 
various theologies and creeds, — that is, our science 
of religion. But mankind were religious long be- 
fore they had any thing to do with these religions 
and creeds. Men are religious beings because they 
have a religious nature; just as they are social be- 
ings because they have a social nature, and moral 
beings because they have a moral nature. 

Religion, therefore, taking the term in its most 
general acceptation, is a human want ; not so 
called because a want always felt, but because a 
foundation is laid in every soul for its being felt at 
times. It would be just as easy to find a people 
without a disposition to society, or a sense of moral 
distinctions, as to find one without any recognition 
whatever of Divinity, — -without reverence, faith, 
worship, religious aspiration under some form or 
other, and in some degree or other. 



BUT A WANT. 



5 



Here, then, is a view of religion quite distinct 
from the question of the truth or falsity of any 
particular and definite form of it ; quite distinct, 
also, from a consideration of its moral claims and 
uses ; and yet of great practical moment. 

In the first place it helps to clear up what would 
otherwise be a perplexing fact in history. I mean 
the existence and prevalence of rude, grotesque, 
and sometimes savage and cruel modes of faith and 
worship. A religion which is to supply a natural 
want will take more or less of its character from the 
character of the want itself as actually developed 
and felt at the time. It certainly must have been 
so with the various forms of paganism ; for these 
were nothing but the growth of a particular state 
of society and the human mind, and must there- 
fore be expected to betray the limitations, the de- 
fects, the vices of their source. And even where 
the religion originates in an express revelation, we 
must presume that the whole will be accommodated 
to the actual capacities and wants of the people 
and the age. Accordingly we have a succession of 
revelations, — the patriarchal, the Mosaic, and the 
Christian. It has been objected to the first two, 
that they are confessedly imperfect when compared 
with the last, and therefore cannot have come from 
a perfect being. But those who take this ground 
forget that the perfection of a religion consists in 



6 



RELIGION NOT A SCIENCE, 



its perfect adaptation to its purpose ; in other 
words, that the best religion for any people is not 
that which is best in itself, but that which will best 
satisfy their moral and religious wants, — in short, 
the best which they can bear. u I have yet many 
things to say unto you," our Lord is here speaking 
to the twelve, " but ye cannot bear them now." 

Certainly, therefore, we have the best authority 
for holding that revelation itself is, and must be, 
accommodated more or less to the condition of 
those to whom it is addressed, — to their capacities 
and their wants. And this applies especially to a 
public religion ; that is, to a religion intended for 
a whole people, and not merely for the enlightened 
few. 

You will sometimes hear it said that religion is 
wholly an affair between the individual and his 
Maker ; which is true in one sense, but not in 
another. Everybody knows that there must be 
a public as well as a private or personal re- 
ligion ; in other words, there must be a public 
religion in order that there may be a private or 
personal religion, — for the latter is nothing but the 
former individualized, with slight variations. The 
public religion must also take a positive form ; that 
is to say, it must express itself by means of insti- 
tutions of faith and worship, which are generally 
received ; and to be generally received, they must 



BUT A WANT, 



7 



be such as the age, the community, the sect are 
generally in a condition to understand and appre- 
ciate. To a certain extent, therefore, it is with the 
institutions of religion — by which I mean its out- 
ward forms and professions — just as it is with the 
institutions of government. It is to no purpose to 
say that the truest institutions of government are 
the best : they are the best if the people are pre- 
pared for them, and can bear them ; if not, they 
are the worst. In reading ecclesiastical history, 
many are offended and disgusted at the supersti- 
tions which prevailed in the Church of the Middle 
Ages. But why this disposition to find fault with 
what was manifestly a wise ordering of things ? A 
simple and more rational ministration of Chris- 
tianity would not have taken hold of the imagina- 
tion and the feelings of the people of that period ; 
that is to say, it would not have satisfied the reli- 
gious wants of the then existing condition of so- 
ciety ; in one word, it would not have answered its 
purpose. 

But is not this to reduce all rites and creeds to 
a level ? — to make one religion as good and as true 
as another ? I answer, No ! The best and truest 
religion, in itself considered, is that which is best 
for the best people ; but it does not follow that it 
would be best for all people. The stumbling block 
of the so-called radical reformers consists in ignor- 



8 



RELIGION NOT A SCIENCE, 



ing the obvious fact, that minds must be educated 
up to a condition or capacity to receive the highest 
truths. The truth, these men will tell you, can 
never do any harm ; which nobody denies, if by 
truth is meant truth understood ; but truth misun- 
derstood, as it will be if men are not prepared for 
it, is one of the subtlest and often one of the 
most mischievous of errors. It is still our interest 
and our duty to seek out and to disseminate the 
truest exposition of Christianity, — the truest in 
itself considered ; but this can be clone in no other 
way than by preparing ourselves and others to 
understand and appreciate it. Meanwhile, differ- 
ences will and must exist. Not different gospels, 
as some are fond of saying : there is but one Gos- 
pel, as there is but one Nature ; nothing hinders, 
however, the one Gospel any more than the one 
Nature from being variously interpreted. Nay, 
paradoxical as it may seem, these different inter- 
pretations, when adapted to the corresponding 
differences in men's minds, will so balance and 
complement each other as actually to promote the 
only unity and identity we can desire. I mean 
unity and identity of effect ; that is, the satisfaction 
of the common religious want. 

This, then, is the first lesson to be gathered from 
the doctrine that religion is not a science, but a 
want. Under a scientific point of view, it is plain 



BUT A WANT. 



9 



there can be but one absolutely true faith ; it 
argues however neither -wisdom nor piety, but a 
pitiable self-conceit, in any individual or in any 
sect to think to have found it. Happily it is not 
necessary to do so. It suffices, if the humble fol- 
lower of our Lord has found enough of this truth 
to make him an earnest, trusting, and devout ma: . 
Elevate him if you can into the region of higher 
and more spiritual wants ; but, taken as he is, that 
religion is practically the truth for him, which will 
best answer the ends of religion in his case. Of 
course, on this principle we must expect diversity, 
— "diversities of gifts," "differences of admin- 
istrations," "diversities of operations," — never- 
theless, as the Apostle says, " it is the same God 
which worketh all in all." Observe, too, that the 
practical evils sometimes incident to this diversity 
do not come from the law of the diversity as here 
laid down. They come from not understanding, 
or from attempts to contravene, that law; in other 
words, they come either from urging reforms pre- 
maturely, — that is, before people are prepared for 
them, — or else from a struggle to retain and per- 
petuate institutions which the world has outgrown. 
Let us hope there is a tendency to agreement and 
unity in what is absolutely true. And that this 
tendency may become effective, let all the ways of 
progress be thrown open : let the thought of man 
1* 



10 



BELIGION SOT A SCIENCE, 



be as free as the air. What will satisfy him to-day 
will not probably satisfy hini to-morrow ; still it is 
true to-day as well as to-morrow that that religion 
is the best for him, which, for the time being, will 
best satisfy his religious wants, — the cry of his 
soul "for God, for the living God." 

Two other lessons are also to be gathered from 
the doctrine of this discourse, which are more 
directly practical : the first, respecting what we 
are to do for others ; the second, respecting what 
we are to do for ourselves. 

It is common for persons of cultivated and re- 
fined minds to express surprise and impatience at 
the superstitious notions and practices which still 
prevail. These superstitions, however, do but 
authenticate what has just been said in proof of 
man's religious nature. Such is the need, the 
craving, of the human mind for religion of some 
sort or other, that, rather than have none, it will 
accept it under the most grotesque and revolting 
forms. And, this being the case, it follows that 
the only effectual preventive or cure of supersti- 
tion is to be found in the inculcation and prev- 
alence of a purer worship. It is to no purpose 
to deride prevalent superstitions ; it is to no pur- 
pose to rail against them ; nay, it is to no purpose 
to refute them. The bulk of mankind will never 
be persuaded that their religion, however inade- 



BUT A WANT. 



11 



quate and corrupt, is not better than none. Some 
communication with the mysterious Infinite, some 
intercourse with the invisible world, they will and 
must have. If you are dissatisfied with the popu- 
lar faith, inculcate a better, exhibit the fruits of 
a better, educate the people up to a capacity for a 
better ; but do not hope to correct the evil of 
which you complain in any other way ; do not 
think to put down superstition by setting up for- 
malism, or scepticism, or infidelity. 

We should also bear in mind that what is 
wanted is not a philosophy, but a religion. We 
may have all the argument on our side, and all 
the learning, and a full proportion of the integrity 
and honor ; yet it will profit us nothing, if we are 
suspected of being deficient in faith and piety, if 
we have not an unction from the Holy One. The 
bulk of the community are not looking round for 
the truest or the most consistent form of worship, 
but for that which will best satisfy their religious 
wants. Hence that sect will be almost sure to 
be in the ascendant, which gives the most strik- 
ing and unequivocal signs of seriousness and zeal ; 
which loves the most, and prays the most, and 
does the most good. Enlightened views of Chris- 
tianity derive an immense advantage on the intel- 
lectual side from the fact that they fall in with 
the great movements of the age, and with the 



12 



RELIGION NOT A SCIENCE, 



highest and best thought on other subjects; but 
this advantage will be more than lost, if the profes- 
sion of these views fails to be connected with that 
serious and devout habit of mind which is abso- 
lutely indispensable to render any religion popu- 
lar. Let it, therefore, be universally understood, 
that the man or the woman who leads the public 
to associate with any set of religious opinions un- 
common sanctity, does more to propagate those 
opinions than the most triumphant display of 
logic, or criticism, or eloquence. 

Thus much we owe to others and to society. 
Knowing that there is a want in human nature 
which will lead either to religion or to superstition, 
we see at once that the only effectual prevention or 
cure of superstition is to be found in the prev- 
alence of a pure and rational faith. This faith, 
therefore, the enlightened and educated classes 
are under a double motive and obligation to pro- 
mote by word and deed, by profession and life : 
first, because it is the only legitimate means of 
satisfying men's religious wants ; and, secondly, 
because it is the only effectual means of saving 
the whole community from debasing and ruinous 
superstitions. 

And this is not all. In the last place, therefore, 
and under the light of the same general principle, 
let us consider what we are to do for ourselves. 



BUT A WANT. 



13 



I have said that religion, of some sort or other, 
is a universal and inextinguishable want ; and this 
is true. But all men do not feel this want equally, 
and no one feels it equally at all times ; and, what 
is more, many who feel their need of religion when 
they have occasion to use it, do not feel their need 
of it when they have opportunity to acquire it. 
There is nothing wonderful here ; for it is just so 
with the most obvious and universal of our bodily 
wants, — the want of food. We all feel this want 
when hungry ; but it is not every one who feels it 
or recognizes it at other times, so as to be put 
upon providing the necessary food beforehand. 
In the same way we all feel our need of religion 
when we have occasion to resort to it for support 
or solace, but not always when we have oppor- 
tunity to acquire it ; or we feel it but in a slight 
degree, — not sufficiently to induce earnest action. 
This is our great difficulty, the most serious ob- 
stacle to personal religion, as will readily appear 
on giving a moment's thought to the real springs 
of human action. 

A man is not impelled to the pursuit of any 
good by his knowledge or opinion of its nature or 
relative value, but by his feeling of the want of it, 
and the uneasiness which this feeling creates. The 
spring of all human activity is in the uneasiness 
that accompanies desire. As it has been justly 



14 RELIGION NOT A SCIENCE, 



said, you may convince a man ever so much that 
plenty has its advantages over poverty ; you may 
make him see and own that the handsome con- 
veniences of life are better than pinching and 
squalid penury, — nevertheless, so long as he is 
content with the latter and finds no uneasiness 
in it, he will not move a ringer to better his con- 
dition. In the same way a man may easily be 
brought to see and own, in a general view of 
things, that virtue is a more desirable object than 
wealth ; still, if from any cause his want of wealth 
is the most keenly felt, he will bend all his ener- 
gies to the attainment of that, and let the other 
go, at least for the present. And so with religion. 
Men may estimate it in their theories above all 
earthly possessions, and be perfectly sincere in 
those estimates ; nevertheless, in point of fact, so 
long as they can content themselves without it as 
a habit of mind, or think they can dispense with 
it for the present, or imagine they already have 
enough of it, they will be sure to postpone its 
earnest and serious cultivation to any the most 
frivolous object which happens from any cause to 
be uppermost in their feeling of want. No matter 
how much they need religion, it is only in propor- 
tion as they actually feel this need that they will 
be put upon acquiring it. It is not enough that 
religion really is the best of things, and that every 



BUT A WANT. 



15 



one needs it above all things; nay, it is not enough 
that we are made to see and own that religion is 
the best of things, and that every one needs it 
above all things. More than that, we must act- 
ually feel our want of it ; it must become the ob- 
ject of our predominant feeling of want, creating 
in us an uneasiness which will not let us rest until 
it is attained. Why is it that the worldly-minded 
seek first and chiefly the gratification of their 
worldly ambition, even at the expense of what 
they know to be far higher and better ? Simply 
and solely because in the existing state of their 
habits and tastes and prepossessions they long for 
the former, but clo not long for the latter. 

Here, then, we behold at a glance both the evil 
and the remedy. The evil is that we clo not feel 
as we should our need of religion. I do not mean 
in particular exigencies, but as a habit of mind, 
as a quality of character ; and the remedy is, to 
quicken or renew this feeling, to unfold and culti- 
vate a sense of our moral and spiritual wants. 

There are those, I believe, who think it suf- 
ficient evidence that they really do not want 
virtue and religion, because they do not feel this 
want. As if all the wants of our nature were 
upon its surface ; as if it was not the effect of 
every step in human progress to awaken new and 
higher wants. The want of virtue and the want 



16 



EE LI G ION NOT A SCIENCE, 



of religion are real wants of our nature, as much 
so as the want of knowledge or the want of bread. 
Nay, more, they are the highest wants of our na- 
ture ; but before they are felt to be such, educa- 
tion, society, the individual, have something to do. 
All, I suppose, will agree that a well-conducted 
Christian education should aim to make the child 
sensible and alive, as soon as may be, to the high- 
est wants of his highest nature. But who will say 
that this is attended to as it should be in educa- 
tion as commonly conducted at the present day ? 
On the contrary, are not the prevailing influences, 
under which the rising generation are growing up, 
such as to give in most cases a premature devel- 
opment of their animal and earth-born wants, — 
the want of dress, and luxury, and praise, and 
money, — while the wants of the soul are not 
known ; or, if known, are not felt ; or, if felt, are 
not encouraged and sedulously cultivated ? 

What society and the world are not doing for us, 
we must do with the help of the Holy Spirit for 
ourselves. And, blessed be God ! it is precisely 
here that the sublime prerogative of reason, or 
man's capacity of self-inspection, self-activity, and 
self-culture, are most gloriously revealed. The 
inferior animals can satisfy the wants of their 
nature as they arise ; and this is all. It is given 
to man alone, by communion with his own spirit 



BUT A WANT. 



17 



and with the Father of Spirits, by accepting the 
means of grace and living the life of the Son of 
God, by familiarity with noble sentiments and 
noble characters and noble deeds, to unfold the 
wants of his nature ; to unfold them more and 
more, and to subordinate the lower to the higher, 
and all to the highest, that mysterious but inex- 
tinguishable longing after the Unseen and Eternal. 
" As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so 
panteth my soul after thee, O God ! My soul 
thirsteth for God, for the living God." And 
" Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst 
after righteousness, for they shall be filled." 

1859. 



18 



MAN'S COMPETENCY 



XI. 

MAN'S COMPETENCY TO KNOW GOD. 

" Lo! these are parts of his ways ; but how little a portion is heard of 
him? but the thunder of his power who can understand ?" — Job 
xxvi. 14. 

T APPROACH the subject on which I am now 
going to address you with unfeigned humility 
and distrust. Whenever finite minds aspire to 
know the Infinite Mind, they are admonished, at 
every step, of the limitation and inadequacy of 
their highest and best conceptions. After we 
have done all, we "are constrained to say, in the 
words of the text, " Lo ! these are parts of his 
ways ; but how little a portion is heard of him ? 
but the thunder of his power who can under- 
stand ? " 

These very words, however, while representing 
man's knowledge of God as necessarily partial and 
imperfect, make it nevertheless to be real and 
trustworthy as far as it goes. Accordingly they 
bring up and, to some extent, answer the two 



TO ENOW GOD. 



19 



great questions, Are we competent to know God ? 
And if so, to what extent ? 

These questions, I hardly need say, always have 
been and always will be at the foundation of all 
religion, natural or revealed. A new interest 
and importance is also given to them by the turn 
which infidel speculation has taken of late. The 
history of unbelief is easily traced. First came 
criticism, which led men to question every thing. 
This was the period of scepticism. Many who 
began with questioning the foundations of religion 
ended with denying them. This was the period 
of atheism. There, however, they found them- 
selves pressed by new and unexpected difficulties. 
To deny is to affirm ; it is to affirm a negative, 
making it necessary that the negative should be 
proved, which is always of all proofs the most em- 
barrassing and unsatisfactory. The more thought- 
ful and consistent among them have therefore 
fallen back from this position and taken another. 
They do not deny the foundations of religion ; 
they do not even so much as question them : they 
simply ignore them. It is the period of indiffer- 
entism. 

The ground here taken against all positive re- 
ligion is not only more consistent than any other, 
but also more specious and more formidable. It 
is no longer the pride of human reason ; on the 



20 



MAN'S COMPETENCY 



contrary, it would seem to be dictated by a modest 
distrust of human reason. It does not, like the 
atheism of the last century, undertake to account 
for the origin of things without a God ; it stigma- 
tizes all attempts to account for the origin of 
things in any way as a vain presumption. It 
does not dispose of the questions respecting the 
existence or the attributes of God by answer- 
ing them, but by refusing to entertain them, as 
relating to matters which, whether true or not, 
transcend human intelligence. 

And what makes it worse is that lan2:ua°:e 
equally strong, in respect to the incompetency of 
the human intellect, is sometimes met with in the 
writings of enlightened theologians and devout 
Christians. These men believe in the existence 
of God ; but they would seem to do so under the 
express condition that this existence is wholly and 
absolutely incomprehensible. Are they aware 
that, by taking this ground, they are paving the 
way, however unconsciously, for that form of in- 
fidelity or irreligion from which, as I have shown, 
we now have the most to apprehend? Perhaps 
the language here objected to, especially when 
met with in devotional works, is used to express 
not so much a conviction as a feeling, — a feeling 
of dependence and self-abasement ; or, more prob- 
ably still, the words are to be regarded as words of 



TO KNOW GOD 



21 



course, like conventional phrases of civility in let- 
ters or conversation, — an outward form of respect- 
However this may be, one thing is clear if any 
thing is clear. If God, as God, cannot be brought 
in any way or in any degree under human cogni- 
zance, then what those who ignore all religion say, 
would follow : it would be folly, and worse than 
folly, to waste our time and thoughts on the sub- 
ject. On this subject, however, I feel sure that 
Christians, if they would take the trouble to un- 
derstand themselves and each other, would find 
that they do not differ so much as is generally 
supposed. Certainly we do not apply epithets to 
God without attaching to them any meaning what- 
ever : we do not call him wise and good, perfect 
and infinite, without having some notion of what 
we mean by these terms. What could be more 
unreasonable than to expect a man to express, he 
knows not what, in words the meaning of which, 
in this connection, he does not know ? And be- 
sides, supposing a man not to know what he had 
to express, I should like to be informed how it 
is possible for him to know, after he has done, 
whether he has expressed it or not. He can know 
it on the sole condition of being able to compare the 
expression with the idea, so as to see whether they 
agree or disagree ; but how can he do this if he has 
no idea, not even an imperfect or indefinite idea ? 



22 



MAN'S COMPETENCY 



I am aware of the distinctions sometimes resorted 
to in this case. To know that God is, we shall be 
told, is one thing ; to know what he is, is another. 
We should begin by proving that God is, and then 
learn what he is, not from our own knowledge, but 
from revelation. 

Before proceeding to expose the fallacy in this 
argument, I would emphatically disclaim all pur- 
pose to call in question the importance and neces- 
sity of the Christian Revelation, whether considered 
as a means of confirming or of enlarging our knowl- 
edge of God. Without meaning to deny that here 
and there an individual, like Socrates, for example, 
might attain to some just conceptions of the Deity 
by the light of Nature alone, I still think that no 
positive and public religion ever did exist, or ever 
will exist, unless purporting to be of. divine origin 
and authority. It would argue an infinite conceit 
in the religious teachers of a community to expect 
that their private speculations on such a theme, 
varying and contradictory as they must needs be, 
would have much weight with the public or be 
listened to long. Whatever power or dignity the 
pulpit has, is owing mainly not to its learning or its 
eloquence, but to the generally acknowledged fact 
that it does not speak in its own name, but in that 
Name which is above every name, and before which 
every knee should bow. 



TO KNOW GOD. 



23 



What, however, has this to do with man's in- 
competency to know God ? At the utmost it only 
shows, not that God cannot be known, but that he 
cannot be fully and adequately known without a 
special revelation, which revelation we have. I 
care not how much stress you lay on the impor- 
tance and necessity of the Christian Revelation. 
Make the gospel to be every thing, and natural 
religion to be nothing ; still I ask you to consider 
the inconsistency, the manifest inconsistency, of 
appealing to the gospel for proof that God cannot 
be known in any way, when, as we are expressly 
told again and again, the very purpose and object 
of the gospel is to make God known. " And they 
shall not teach every man his neighbor, and every 
man his brother, saying, Know the Lord ; for all 
shall know me from the least to the greatest." 
" And this is life eternal, that they might know 
thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom 
thou hast sent." 

But I go farther. I maintain not only that God 
is known through the gospel, but also that the 
gospel assumes or implies, in almost every line, 
that something at least was known of him before ; 
that is, by man's unassisted reason. " For the 
invisible things of him from the creation of the 
world are clearly seen, being understood by 
the things that are made ; even his eternal power 



24 



MAN'S COMPETENCY 



and Godhead." And here, as hinted above, it is 
to no purpose to say we must begin by proving 
that God is, and afterwards learn what he is, not 
from our own knowledge, but from revelation. 
How can we prove that God is, without first 
understanding, at least to some extent, what he 
is ? To prove that God exists, we must prove 
that a being exists possessing those qualities or 
attributes which make him to be God. But how 
can we do this while having no conception at all 
of what those qualities or attributes are ? In all 
legitimate processes of reasoning, the only ground 
for reliance on the truth of the conclusion is that 
this conclusion is contained in the premises. But 
if we do not know, in airv way or in any degree, 
what the conclusion means, what right have we to 
affirm, or even to conjecture, whether it is con- 
tained in the premises or not ? So much, there- 
fore, I hold to be incontrovertible : our knowledge 
must go as far as our proofs go. In other words, 
we cannot prove we know not what. 

Nor is this all. Why do we believe in the truth 
of what is revealed in the Scriptures respecting 
God ? On the evidence of miracles, it will be said. 
Make the most, however, of these miracles ; in 
themselves considered they prove this only, that 
the revelation has the sanction of a Power which 
is able to suspend or overrule the laws of Nature. 



TO KNOW GOD. 



25 



To convert them, therefore, into a proof of the 
Christian revelation, we must first assume that 
God would not exert this power himself, or per- 
mit any other being to exert it, in order to sanc- 
tion an imposture. Unless we assume all this 
beforehand, and unless we have a right to assume 
it, the argument from miracles, as all must allow, 
is not valid. Now, on what ground do we assume 
it ? Evidently on this, that it is not consistent 
with God's moral attributes to permit a miracle 
to be wrought in attestation of what is not true. 
And this reasoning is good ; but only on one con- 
dition, to wit, that we know what these attributes 
are : for if we do not, how can we know what is 
or is not consistent with them ? 

Moreover, we say as Christians, and say truly, 
that God has revealed what he is ; but how has he 
revealed it ? Immediate revelation is out of the 
question at the present day, except at any rate in 
very extraordinary cases. The Christian revela- 
tion was made more than eighteen centuries ago ; 
it has been transmitted by means of human lan- 
guage, and exclusively, as Protestants contend, in 
a book. "The Bible, and the Bible only, is the 
religion of Protestants." Now what does the 
Bible reveal respecting the Divine attributes ? Is 
it merely that God should be called wise and good, 
perfect and infinite ? Is it a matter of words only ? 
2 



26 



MAN'S COMPETENCY 



Certainly not. It is not the words considered 
merely as spoken sounds or written characters, 
but the sense of the words, which constitutes the 
revelation. Obviously, therefore, it is only in so 
far as we have not only the words, but the sense 
of the words, that the revelation is a revelation 
to us. 

This, then, is the conclusion to which I am 
brought. It may strike some, at first sight, as a 
commendable humility to allege the incompre- 
hensibility of God ; but if we push this doctrine 
to the extreme, if we take it to the letter, it will 
be at the peril of all religion, revealed as well as 
natural. As one of the old divines of the Church 
of England 1 has said : " To give no other account 
of the nature of God and his ways, than that 
they are unintelligible, is to encourage the atheist, 
and yield him the day ; for that is the thing 
he does chiefly applaud himself in, that he is 
secure there is neither head nor foot in the mys- 
teries of religion, and that the very notion of a 
God implies a contradiction to our faculties." 
This danger, then, was seen to exist two hundred 
years ago ; how much more at the present day, 
when, as I have shown, it will have the effect to 
play directly into the hands of the latest form of 
infidelity ! Indeed, it is not easy to see what 

f 1 Henry More. 



TO KNOW GOD. 



27 



material advantage, in a practical point of view, 
the theist would have over the atheist, or the 
Christian over the pagan, if neither the theist nor 
the Christian knows any thing of God, except that 
he exists, — nothing of his nature or character ; 
nothing, that is, which he can reason either to or 
from in the way of conviction or instruction, of 
warning or comfort or hope. 

Accordingly I cannot, I will not, believe that 
any thoughtful Christian, however he may some- 
times express himself in his humility, or his per- 
plexities, or for the honor of faith on this subject, 
really means to be understood as saying that God 
is incomprehensible in the sense of being wholly 
and absolutely unintelligible. I cannot, I will not, 
believe that under the accumulated lights of a 
better civilization, a more spiritual philosophy, and 
the Christian revelation, he would still have us go 
on and erect altars, as they did of old, with this 
inscription, " To the unknown" God.''' 

But here another question arises of greater dif- 
ficulty and delicacy. Granting man's competency 
to know God, how far does this competency ex- 
tend ? Granting that something can be known 
even of the divine attributes and perfections, how 
much can be known ? 

In the first place, we are able to conceive of 
those qualities and operations of the Divine mind, 



28 



MAN'S COMPETENCY 



in which we are permitted in some humble measure 
to share. When we say that God is wise and just 
and benevolent, we know what we mean; we mean 
that he is wise and just and benevolent as men 
sometimes are, only in an infinitely higher degree. 
The mere circumstance that God's wisdom, justice, 
and benevolence are infinite does not alter the 
essential nature of these qualities ; does not make 
them to be any thing more or less than wisdom, 
justice, and benevolence. You know how it is 
with space. The mere circumstance that space 
is infinite does not alter its essential nature ; as 
space, it is still essentially the same thing as far as 
it goes, whether limited or unlimited. And so of 
the divine wisdom or knowledge ; knowledge is 
still knowledge, whether finite or infinite. No 
doubt God has modes of knowing, and objects of 
knowledge, which we can neither understand nor 
conceive of ; nevertheless, knowledge itself — that 
is, to knoiv, simply considered and as far as it goes — 
must be essentially the same in all knowing beings. 
So likewise of God's moral perfections. I do not 
suppose that we can now see in all cases the justice 
and benevolence of the divine government ; but 
this is owing to the limitation of our present views 
compared with the vastness and complexity of the 
scheme. We still hold that the scheme itself, in 
all its vastness and in all its details, alike in its 



TO KNOW GOD. 



29 



means and in its ends, is in strict accordance with 
justice and benevolence, and with justice and 
benevolence as we understand them. We know 
what wisdom and justice and benevolence are in 
God, because we know what wisdom and justice 
and benevolence are in ourselves, — the latter 
answering to the former, not indeed in degree, 
but yet in essence and in kind, from the fact that 
God has created us, as the Bible says, in his own 
image. 

I am aware that the ground here taken has been 
questioned even by Christians. Thus the author 
of " The Light of Nature Pursued " contends that 
" the faculties and operations of man differ in kind, 
as well as degree, from those of his Maker." 
According to this writer, instead of holding that 
man is really made after the likeness of God, it 
would be much nearer the truth to say " that the 
idea of God is taken from the likeness of man." 
We select the powers and endowments by which 
we ourselves are most distinguished, and after 
separating from them all we deem a weakness or 
imperfection, and heightening them to the utmost 
pitch that imagination can reach, we make the 
aggregate to be our idea of Grod ; not because it 
corresponds to the reality, but because we can 
conceive of nothing better. 

You will observe that writers of this class do 



30 



MAN'S COMPETENCY 



not regard the names they apply to God as ex- 
pressing what he is ; they use them merely as titles 
of respect and honor. But is this according to the 
Scriptures, or the obvious purpose and use of relig- 
ion, or the general understanding of religious men ? 
I think not. When we aver that God is wise and 
just and good, it is because we see, or think we 
see, evidence in his works and word that he really 
possesses those very qualities. And, besides, all 
religious trust proceeds on the assumption that 
God is wise and just and good, and in the sense 
in which men are so, only infinitely more entirely 
and perfectly. Make truth and justice to be one 
thing in God and another thing in man, not only 
in degree but also in kind, and after that, even 
though we have the gospel in our hands, how 
could we tell what to believe or what to expect ; 
what to hope or what to fear ? 

There is also a still more radical defect in the 
doctrine under consideration. It does not recog- 
nize the divine element in the human soul. In 
other words, it does not recognize the identity of 
basis, if I may so express it, of all spiritual na- 
tures and all spiritual life ; without which no 
foundation is laid for that oneness in the Father, 
that becoming " partakers of the divine nature," 
that life of God in the soul of man, of which the 
Scriptures continually speak, and on which they 



TO KNOW GOD. 



31 



make all our heavenly aspirations to turn. Neither 
is it in the Scriptures alone that we have assurance 
of these divine affinities ; they are testified to in 
the unutterable 3^earnings and longings of the spir- 
itually minded men of all religions in all ages. 

Thus far therefore, as it seems to me, we may 
safely go. We can know the moral and intel- 
lectual attributes of God, because they are re- 
flected however faintly in ourselves, inasmuch as 
the human mind is made after the likeness of the 
Divine mind. But what shall we say of those 
incommunicable properties which belong to God 
alone as the infinite One ? Can we know any 
thing of them? — and if so, how much? 

God is revealed to us, in the universe and in 
the Scriptures, as an intelligent cause or force; 
and we know what this is, for every human mind 
is to a certain extent an intelligent cause or force. 
But in us the force, and the intelligence which 
directs it, are dependent on other things, and 
consequently are to this extent limited by other 
things. When however we suppose these limits 
away, as, in the case of a Being who has nothing 
to limit him, we must, then the force and the 
intelligence become infinite. To the reason, there- 
fore, God stands revealed as infinite. Neither is 
this a merely negative revelation, helping us to 
know what God is not ; namely, that he is not 



82 



MAN'S COMPETENCY 



finite : for to know positively that God is, and at 
the same time that he is not finite, is to know 
positively that he is infinite. We also have a 
right to reason from this knowledge, and we do 
reason from it every day, in respect to many of the 
difficulties which trouble our faith. Even though 
it may not always enable us to explain away the 
difficulty, it will help to reconcile us to it; in other 
words the difficulty will cease to trouble us as 
an objection, when we consider that many things 
which are impossible with men must be possible 
with God. 

Here then we see the realit} r and the impor- 
tance, and at the same time the extent and the 
limits, of our knowledge of God as an Infinite 
Being. We find no difficulty in understanding 
that such a being exists ; and, if he exists, we know 
that many things which are impossible with us must 
be possible with him : but hoiv possible, we can 
neither know nor conceive. 

Hence what are called the mysteries of religion, 
— the mysteries of creation, the mysteries of 
Providence, the mysteries of grace. It would 
be well if the Church had always known how to 
accept these mysteries without making them 
the occasion of strife and tyranny. I certainly 
cannot agree with those who contend that, "where 
the mystery begins, religion ends." But this I say, 



TO KNOW GOD. 



33 



where the mystery begins, dogmatism should end, 

— dogmatism for, and dogmatism against. In 
order to turn a mystery into a dogma and impose 
it as a creed, you must first define it ; but, as soon 
as you have defined a mystery, the mystery is gone. 
What remains is probably an unmeaning paradox, 
or it may be a ghastly contradiction. 

It is well that we should know as much of God 
as is revealed in his works and word ; and it is 
well that we should not pretend to know any more. 
When we pray, " O Lord, touch our hearts,- that 
we may know the mysteries of the Kingdom of 
Heaven ! " it is not that we may see through these 
mysteries so as to be able to understand them as 
we do ordinary occurrences, but only that we may 
know how to use them for spiritual edification. 
Mysteries are not for noisy debate, they are for de- 
vout meditation ; they are not for the faith of the 
understanding, they are for the faith of the heart, 

— now to inspire and exalt, and now to overawe 
and subdue. 

It is not enough considered that religious thought 

has two purposes ; one of which is to enlighten, 

the other to move and impress. In the latter case, 

the very obscurity and indefiniteness of the thought 

often minister to its efficacy. Doubtless we are 

more enlightened by what is clearly seen ; but it is 

equally certain that we are often more moved and 
2* . c 



34 



MAWS COMPETENCY 



impressed by what is seen only in part, by what 
is darkly suggested. Hence the secret of much 
of that mysterious and overpowering fascination 
which takes hold of most men amidst sublime 
scenes, and chains them to the spot. Neither is 
it in cultivated minds alone that this craving for 
the vague immense is revealed. Why does the 
savage pause in his midnight journey to gaze into 
the fathomless depths of the clear and tranquil 
heavens ? What arrests his step on the sea-shore, 
and makes him look abroad on the boundless ex- 
panse of waters with a strange mingling of emo- 
tions which he cannot describe, and for which he 
has as yet no name ? It is the instinctive senti- 
ment of the infinite, struggling after an object with 
which to be satisfied and filled. That object is 
found in God alone, half understood and half not 
understood. As an old English writer has said 
with his accustomed quaintness : " Ever since our 
minds became so dim-sighted as not to pierce into 
that original and primitive blessedness which is 
above, our wills are too big for our understandings, 
and will believe their beloved prey is to be found 
where reason discovers it not. They will pursue it 
through all the vast wilderness of this world, and 
force our understandings to follow the chase with 
them ; nor may we think to tame this violent ap- 
petite, or allay the heat of it, except we can look 



TO KNOW 00 D. 



35 



upwards to some Eternal and Almighty Goodness, 
which is alone able to master it." 1 

Let no one say, therefore, that our knowledge of 
God is less real or less effective because it is incom- 
plete and imperfect. If we could comprehend the 
infinite as we comprehend the finite, theology 
might be a gainer, but religion would suffer. Reli- 
gion, it cannot be repeated too often, is intended to 
supply not so much an intellectual as a moral and 
spiritual want. It addresses itself to our aspira- 
tions ; not so much to the curiosity of men and 
the speculative understanding, as to the sentiments, 
and especially to that mystical but most character- 
istic sentiment in human nature, the desire in man 
to raise himself above himself. 

Why then should we be unwilling to admit, as 
the final and crowning source of our knowledge of 
God, a practical, a direct, or if you will a mystical, 
insight into divine things ? — a something in faith 
and worship, and in the thoughts which inform 
and inspire both, which the devout soul feels and 
knows, but which no logic can analyze and no 
language express ? I speak not now of that false 
mysticism from which the world and the Church 
have suffered so much and so long ; which disdains 
the wisdom it might gather from daily experience, 
and imagines impossible communications with the 
1 John Smith. 



36 MAN'S COMPETENCY TO KNOW GOD. 

spiritual world, I mean a true mysticism, which 
is favorable if not necessary to the life and warmth 
of a sober and rational piety, — a mysticism which 
supposes a real communion of the soul with its 
Maker ; which loves in order to know, instead of 
knowing in order to love ; which knows the divine 
from sympathy with it, — a mysticism which holds 
no unintelligble language in speaking of things 
seen or unseen, which makes no boast of its inward 
experiences, nor construes them into an authority 
to dictate to others, — a mysticism, in line, which 
understands that "faith without works is dead," 
which loves and serves the finite beings within its 
reach ; and, when the question is of the Infinite, 
believes, adores, and is still. 

1858. 



PHILOSOPHY OF MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 37 



III. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE IN 
REGARD TO THE FOUNDATIONS OF FAITH. 

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things 



AITH is defined in Scripture as being " the 



substance of things hoped for, the evidence 
of things not seen." By it we can and do regard 
many things which lie beyond the sphere of our 
senses and actual experience as really existing, and 
are affected by them as realities. By it the spir- 
itually minded of all religious persuasions, in pro- 
portion as they are spiritually minded, feel a 
confidence and practical assurance in the exist- 
ence and reality of the spiritual world. It is 
this principle which constitutes man, unlike the 
inferior animals, a religious being ; and it is by a 
right development of this principle that we be- 
come capable of seeing Him who is invisible, of 
being affected by those things which pertain to 
our inward and spiritual life as if addressed to the 



not seen." — Heb. xi. 1. 




38 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



senses, and of holding free, intimate, and habitual 
communion with the Unseen, the Infinite, and the 
Eternal. 

Now it is remarkable of the infidelity of the 
present day, that it strikes at the very existence 
of this principle considered as an element or 
property of the human soul. Not content with 
disputing in detail the evidences of natural and 
revealed religion, or driven perhaps from this 
ground, it thinks to cut the matter short by deny- 
ing that man has any faculties for the apprehension 
of spiritual existences, or of any existences but 
such as are cognizable by the senses, and so far 
as they are cognizable by the senses. I have no 
fears that many amongst us, or that any who are 
accustomed to contemplate and study the work- 
ings of their moral and spiritual nature, will be 
seduced and carried away by this gross form of 
sensualism, which they must feel and know to be 
contradicted and entirely set aside by the facts 
of their own inward experience. Still it may be 
well in connection with the evidences of Chris- 
tianity, to begin by setting forth, in the simplest 
and clearest language of which the subject is 
susceptible, the true philosophy of man's moral 
and spiritual nature in regard to the foundations 
of faith. 

In the present discourse I shall endeavor to 



MAN'S SPIRITUA L NA TUBE. 39 



establish, illustrate, and enforce, as much at length 
as my limits will permit, the three following prop- 
ositions : — 

First, that a little reflection will convince every 
one alive to noble thoughts and sentiments, that 
the existence of those spiritual faculties and capaci- 
ties, which are assumed as the foundation of 
religion in the soul of man, is attested and put 
beyond controversy by the revelations of con- 
sciousness. 

Secondly, that religion in the soul, consisting as 
it does of a manifestation and development of 
these spiritual faculties and capacities, is as much 
a reality in itself, and enters as essentially into our 
idea of a perfect man, as the corresponding mani- 
festation and development of the reasoning facul- 
ties, a sense of justice, or the affections of sympathy 
and benevolence. 

And, thirdly, that from the acknowledged exist- 
ence and reality of spiritual impressions or per- 
ceptions we may and do assume the existence and 
reality of the spiritual world; just as, from the 
acknowledged existence and reality of sensible 
impressions or perceptions, we may and do as- 
sume the existence and realities of the sensible 
world. 

These three propositions being established, it 
will follow that our conviction of the existence 



40 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



and reality of the spiritual world is resolvable into 
the same fundamental law of belief as that on 
which our conviction of the existence and reality 
of the sensible world depends. 

I. My first proposition is, that a little reflection 
will convince every one alive to noble thoughts 
and sentiments, that the existence of those spiritual 
faculties and capacities, which are assumed as the 
foundation of religion in the soul of man, is attested 
and put beyond controversy by the revelations of 
consciousness. 

Some writers contend for the existence of an 
unbroken chain of beings, starting from the lowest 
form of inorganic matter, and mounting upwards 
by regular and insensible gradations to the highest 
order of created intelligences. Others insist on a 
division of substances into material and immaterial, 
and make one of the principal arguments for the 
soul's spirituality and immortality to depend on 
the nature of its substance, and not on the nature 
of the laws and conditions imposed upon it. 
Happily, neither of these questions is necessarily 
implicated in the views I am about to offer, and 
both may therefore be dismissed at once from the 
discussion ; the former as being a little too fanciful, 
and the latter as being a little too metaphysical, 
for the generality of minds. It is enough if per- 
sons will recognize the obvious fact, that in the 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 



41 



ascending scale of being, as the vegetable manifests 
some properties which do not belong to crude and 
inert matter, and as the animal manifests some 
properties which do not belong to the mere vege- 
table, so man as man manifests some properties 
which do not belong to the mere animal. He is 
subject, it is true, to many of the laws and condi- 
tions of crude and inert matter, to many of the 
laws and conditions of vegetable life, and to many 
of the laws and conditions of animal life ; but he 
also has part in a still higher life, — the life of the 
soul. He brings into the world the elements of a 
higher life, the life of the soul ; the acknowledged 
phenomena of which can no more be resolved into 
the laws and conditions of mere sensation, than 
into those of vegetation or mere gravitation. This 
higher life, — consisting among other things of a 
development of conscience, the sentiment of ven- 
eration, and the idea of the perfect and the ab- 
solute, — constitutes the, foundation of religion in 
the soul of man ; the existence and reality of which 
is attested, as I hold, and is put beyond contro- 
versy, by the revelations of consciousness. 

I do not suppose, of course, that the existence 
of the above-mentioned properties or affections of 
the soul is matter of sensation. I do not suppose 
that we can see, or hear, or feel, or taste, or smell 
a mental faculty, a moral sentiment, or an idea. 



42 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



Their existence, supposing them to exist, could be 
revealed to us by consciousness alone ; and by con- 
sciousness it is revealed to us : and the evidence of 
consciousness in a question of this nature is final 
and decisive. It is not a matter of sensation nor 
of logic, but of consciousness alone. We are con- 
scious of their existence; and being so, whatever 
we may say or however we may argue to the 
contrary, we cannot, practically speaking, doubt it, 
even if we would, any more ' than we can doubt 
the testimony of the senses. Reflect for one mo- 
ment. What evidence have you of the existence 
of your own mind, — of the power of thought, or 
even of the power or the fact of sensation itself, 
— but the evidence of consciousness? Nay, what 
evidence have you of your own individual being 
and personality, — that you are yourself, and not 
another ; that you are a man, and not a horse or a 
tree ; that you are awake and alive, and not asleep 
or dead, — but the evidence of consciousness ? 
None whatever. You can say, "I am conscious 
of being what I am ; " and that is all you can say. 
An archangel cannot say any thing more. It is 
not a matter of sensation or of argument, but of 
consciousness alone. If, therefore, you are con- 
scious of possessing not only a sensual and an 
intellectual, but also a moral and spiritual nature, 
you have as good evidence for believing that this 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 



43 



moral and spiritual nature really exists, and that 
you possess it, as you have for believing that you 
exist at all. 

"True," the sensualist 1 may say, "this does 
prove the existence of something which we call 
our moral and spiritual nature ; but it does not 
prove that this something belongs to our original 
constitution, that it has its root and foundation in 
the soul, that it cannot be resolved into a mere 
figment of the brain." And then, in the accus- 
tomed vein of this philosophy, he will be likely to 
urge : "Your conscience, — what is it? One thing 
in the child, and another thing in the man ; one 
thing in this age or country, and another thing in 
that ; here expressly forbidding what there it as 
expressly enjoins. And your sentiment of venera- 
tion, — what is it ? To-day prostrate before sticks 
and stones, to-morrow adoring the host of heaven ; 
among one people deifying a virtue, among another 
a man, among another an onion ; now manifesting 
itself under the forms of the grossest superstition, 
and now breaking out into the excesses of the 
wildest fanaticism. And your idea of the Abso- 
lute and the Perfect, — what is it but an hallucina- 
tion of the metaphysically mad ; the finite vainly 
thinking to comprehend the infinite ? Do not all 

1 The term is used in this discourse in its philosophical 
sense. — Ed. 



44 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



these things therefore, though they exist or are 
thought to exist in the human mind, when a little 
more carefully examined, look very much like fig- 
ments of the brain ? " 

How long is the plain, practical good sense of 
mankind to be abused by a sophistry like this, 
which owes all its apparent force and pertinency 
to a sort of logical sleight-of-hand, that, with a 
quickness making it imperceptible to slow minds, 
substitutes for the real question at issue another 
having nothing to do with the subject ? So far as 
the present discussion is concerned, it matters not 
whether conscience, as already instructed and edu- 
cated, always decides correctly, or never decides 
correctly. I am not contending, as everybody 
must perceive who is capable of understanding the 
argument, for the correctness or uniformity of the 
decisions of conscience, — a circumstance which 
must depend of course on the nature and degree of 
instruction and education it lias received, — but for 
the existence of conscience itself, not as a figment 
of the brain, but as an element of our moral and 
spiritual nature. What I maintain is simply this : 
that every man is born with a moral faculty, or 
the elements of a moral faculty, which, on be- 
ing developed, creates in him the idea of a right 
and a wrong in human conduct; which leads 
him to ask the question, " What is right ? " or, 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 



45 



" What ought I to do ? " which summons him be- 
fore the tribunal of his own soul for judgment on 
the rectitude of his purposes ; which grows up 
into an habitual sense of personal responsibility, 
and thus prepares him, as his views are enlarged, 
to comprehend the moral government of God, 
and to feel his own responsibility to God as a moral 
governor. My reasonings and inferences, there- 
fore, are not affected one way or another by the 
actual state of this or that man's conscience, or by 
the fact that probably no two consciences can be 
found which exactly agree. A man's conscience 
we must presume, according to the influences 
under which he has acted, will be more or less 
excited and developed, and more or less enlight- 
ened and educated. Still, we hold it to be unde- 
niable that every man has a conscience to be excited 
and developed, enlightened and educated ; that in 
this sense conscience has its root and foundation in 
the soul ; and that man herein differs essentially 
from the most sagacious of the inferior animals, 
and, unlike them, was originally constituted sus- 
ceptible of religion. 

And so, too, of the sentiment of veneration or 
devotion, considered as an original and funda- 
mental propensity of the human mind, I care not 
so far as my present purpose is concerned under 
what forms it has manifested itself, or to what 



46 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



excesses or abuses it has led. These very excesses 
and abuses only serve to demonstrate the existence 
and strength of the principle itself, as they evince 
such a craving of our nature for religion that it 
will accept of any, even the crudest and most de- 
basing, rather than have none. Could this be, if 
we were not made to be religious ? No matter 
what may be the immediate or ostensible object of 
this sentiment, — a log, a stone, or a star; the god 
of the hills, or the god of the plains ; " Jehovah, 
Jove, or Lord," — still it is veneration, still it is 
devotion. Neither can the principle itself, by any 
show of evidence or just analysis, be resolved into 
a mere figment of the brain or a mere creature of 
circumstances; for, in some form or other, it has 
manifested itself under all circumstances and in 
every stage of the mind's growth, as having its 
root and foundation in the soul. The sentiment 
may be, and often has been, misdirected and per- 
verted ; but there is the sentiment still, with noth- 
ing to hinder its being excited, developed, and 
directed aright : and the result is religion. There 
is the sentiment disposing man to look upward to 
a higher power, and inducing faith in the invisible ; 
a quality in which the most sagacious of the infe- 
rior animals do not share in the smallest degree, 
and which proves, if final causes prove any thing, 
that man was made for worship and adoration. 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 47 



One word more respecting our capacity to form 
an idea of the Absolute and the Perfect. The 
shallow and flippant jeer, that it is the finite vainly 
thinking to comprehend the infinite, comes from 
substituting the literal sense of the term compre- 
hend, as applied to bodies, for its figurative sense 
as applied to minds ; making the comprehension of 
an idea to resemble the grasping or embracing of a 
globe with the hands or the arms. Besides, we 
need not say that man can, strictly speaking, com- 
prehend the Absolute and the Perfect, but only 
that he can apprehend them as really existing ; and 
there is this difference between the literal import 
of apprehension and a full comprehension, that one 
can lay hold of what he would not think to be able 
at once to clasp. However this may be, it is cer- 
tain that the idea of the infinite grows up in the 
human mind as it is cultivated and expanded, and 
becomes an essential condition of thought. As a 
proof of this, let any one try and see if he can 
separate the idea of infinity from his idea of space 
and duration ; or, in other words, whether he can 
possibly conceive of mere space or mere duration 
as otherwise than infinitely extended. Moreover, 
the very idea of imperfection, as such, involves at 
least some faint glimmering of an idea of the per- 
fect with which it is compared, and without which 
imperfection would be to us as perfection. In 



48 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



other words, if we had no idea of perfection we 
could have no idea of its absence, which is what 
we mean by imperfection. So likewise in contem- 
plating things accidental and dependent, the idea 
of the Absolute grows up in the mind, — the idea 
of something that is not accidental and dependent, 
and on which every thing that is accidental and 
dependent leans and is sustained. In short, the 
mind of man is so constituted, that in the full 
development of its intellectual powers it can find 
no real satisfaction, no resolution of its doubts and 
difficulties, but in the idea of the Absolute and the 
Perfect. Take away this idea, and existence itself 
becomes an enigma, a meaningless and objectless 
phantasm. Give us back this idea, and it again 
becomes a consistent, intelligible, and magnificent 
whole. Man, unlike the most sagacious of the in- 
ferior animals, is so constituted that this reaching 
after the Absolute and the Perfect enters into and 
forms an essential element of his moral and spirit- 
ual nature, giving him not only a capacity but a 
predisposition for that faith which is " the sub- 
stance of things hoped for, and the evidence of 
things not seen." 

Therefore do we say, and say confidently, that a 
foundation for religion is laid in the soul of man, 
the existence whereof is attested and put beyond 
controversy by the revelations of consciousness. 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 



49 



This is my first proposition, and I have only to add 
in respect to it two brief suggestions. If, as we 
have seen, a foundation for religion is laid in the 
soul of man, can we bring ourselves to believe for 
one moment that it is laid there for nothing ? And 
again, if, as we have seen, a foundation for a higher 
life than that of the senses is laid in the soul of 
man, must it not be accounted a sort of insanity in 
us, to say nothing of its sinfulness, to refuse or 
neglect to build upon it ? 

II. Here my second proposition comes in, which 
asserts that religion in the soul, consisting as it does 
of a manifestation and development of our spiritual 
faculties and capacities, is as much a reality in 
itself, and enters as essentially into the idea of a 
perfect man, as the corresponding manifestation 
and development of the reasoning powers, a sense 
of justice, or the affections of sympathy and be- 
nevolence. 

Modern philosophy has revived an important dis- 
tinction, much insisted on by the old writers, be- 
tween what is subjectively true and real — that is to 
say, true and real so far as the mind itself is con- 
cerned — and what is objectively true and real, that 
is to say, true and real independently of the mind. 
Thus we affirm of things, the existence of which is 
reported by the senses, that they really exist both 
subjectively and objectively ; that is to say, that 

3 D 



50 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



the mind is really affected as if they existed, and 
that, independently of this affection of the mind, 
the things themselves exist. In other words, we 
have an idea of the thing really existing in the 
mind, and this is subjective truth and reality ; and 
there is also an object answering to that idea really 
existing out of the mind, and this is objective truth 
and reality. One sense therefore there certainly 
is, in which the most inveterate sceptic must allow 
that religion has a real and true existence to the 
really and truly devout. Subjectively it is real and 
true, whether objectively it is real and true or not. 
All must admit that it is true and real so far as the 
mind itself is concerned, even though it cannot 
be shown to have existence independently of the 
mind. It is a habit or disposition of soul, and in 
any view of the matter the habit or disposition 
truly and really exists. It is a development of our 
nature, a development of character, and as such 
is as true and real as any other development of 
nature and character. Even if it feeds on illusions, 
it is not itself an illusion. Even if in its springing 
up it depends on nothing better than a fancy, a 
dream, its growth in the soul and the fruit of that 
growth are realities, — all-important, all-sustaining 
realities. 

I dwell on this distinction, because it is one 
which the sensualists, from policy or perversity, 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 



51 



would fain wink out of sight, making the question 
at issue to be, whether religion is or is not a mere 
illusion. This is not the question. Take any view 
of the matter, take the sensualist's view of the 
matter, and still it is undeniable that religion itself 
as it exists in the soul of the devout is a reality, 
as much so as any other habit or disposition of 
soul, as much so as taste, or conscience, or parental 
or filial affection ; and its effects are as real. 

Nor is this all. Religion in the soul enters 
essentially into our idea of a perfect man. Suppose 
a man perfect in his limbs, features, and bodily 
proportions, but entirely destitute of understand- 
ing ; would he answer to anybody's idea of a per- 
fect man ? No. Give him then a perfect under- 
standing, but still let him be entirely destitute of 
moral sensibility, — as dead to sentiment as before 
he was to thought, — would he answer to any- 
body's idea of a perfect man? No. And why 
not ? Because we mean by a perfect man one in 
whom the whole nature of man is developed in its 
proper order, and just relations and proportions. 
Now, as has been demonstrated, a foundation for 
religion is laid in the human soul. In other words, 
we have spiritual faculties and capacities as well 
as intellectual and moral faculties and capacities ; 
and the former constitute a part of our nature as 
truly as the latter; and this part of our nature 



52 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



must be developed. Otherwise the entire man is 
not put forth. Part of his nature, and of his higher 
nature too, it may be said, is yet to be born ; and 
thus it is that a deep and true philosophy re-asserts 
and confirms the Christian doctrine of regeneration. 
We are born at first into the visible or sensible 
world ; when we become alive to the invisible or 
spiritual world, we may be said to be born again : 
and it is not till after this second birth that we 
become all which, as men, we are capable of be- 
coming. It is not, I repeat it, until after this 
second birth, consisting as I have said in a develop- 
ment of our spiritual faculties and capacities, that 
the entire man is revealed, or our idea of a perfect 
man realized or approached. 

Every well constituted mind must be painfully 
conscious of this truth, though often without being 
aware of the cause of its uneasiness, in reading the 
lives or contemplating the fame of men of eminence, 
and sometimes perhaps of integrity and philan- 
thropy, but destitute of religion. Doubtless a man 
may have some of the forms of greatness and 
goodness without having all ; and nothing can be 
farther from my purpose or disposition than to 
derogate from any form of either, wherever found 
and however connected. Still, when we behold a 
manifestation of the lower forms of greatness and 
goodness without the higher, an impression is left 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 53 



on the mind similar to what is universally felt on 
seeing a foundation laid for a noble structure, and 
that structure carried up far enough with the 
richest materials to indicate the grand and com- 
prehensive plan of the architect, which plan, how- 
ever, from some cause has been interrupted and 
broken off midway. 

Thus far have I reasoned, as you will perceive, 
from what consciousness attests and puts beyond 
controversy respecting the moral and spiritual 
nature of man. Waiving the question whether 
any thing exists out of the mind corresponding to 
our idea of religion in the mind, — waiving the 
question whether the objects of our faith have a 
true and real existence independently of the mind 
itself, — still the conclusion, as we have seen, is 
unavoidable, that this faith has its foundation in 
human nature ; that its development is a true and 
real development of our nature ; and that it is ab- 
solutely essential to our nature's entire and perfect 
development. Whether religion exists independ- 
ently of the mind or not, we know that, to those 
who have it, it has a true and real existence in the 
mind ; that it is a source of true and real strength, 
solace, and hope ; and that men, as men, can truly 
and really do bear and enjoy with it what they 
could not do, bear, or enjoy without it. Even 
therefore if the discussion were to stop here, it 



54 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



would follow incontestably that to disown or 
neglect religion because of this or that real or sup- 
posed logical difficulty, would be to do violence at 
the same time to both those instinctive desires, from 
one or the other of which it is^ said a rational being 
as such must always act, — a desire of happiness 
and a desire of perfection. 

III. But the discussion does not stop here. I 
maintain, and this is my third and last proposition, 
that, from the acknowledged existence, and reality 
of spiritual impressions or perceptions, we may and 
do assume the existence and reality of the spiritual 
world; just as, from the acknowledged existence 
and reality of sensible impressions or perceptions, 
we may and do assume the existence and reality 
of the sensible world. 

Most of you, I presume, are apprised of the 
extravagance of scepticism into which men have 
been betrayed by insisting on a hind of evidence 
of which the nature of the case does not admit. 
Some have denied the existence of the spiritual 
world ; others have denied the existence of the 
sensible world ; and others again have denied the 
existence of both worlds, contending for that of 
impressions or perceptions alone. These last, if we 
are to believe in nothing but the facts of sensation, 
and what can be logically deduced from these facts, 
are unquestionably the only consistent reasoners. 



« 

MAWS SPIRITUAL NATURE. 55 



For what logical connection is there between a fact 
of sensation, between an impression or perception, 
and the real existence of its object, or of the mind 
that is conscious of it ? None whatever. I do not 
mean that a consistent reasoner will hesitate to ad- 
mit the real existence of the objects of sensation. 
Practically speaking, he cannot help admitting their 
real existence if he would. Every man, woman, 
and child believes in his or her own existence, 
and in that of the outward universe or sensible 
world ; but not because the existence of either is 
susceptible of proof by a process of reasoning. 
Not the semblance, not the shadow, of a sound 
logical argument can be adduced in proof of our 
own existence or that of the outward universe. 
We believe in the existence of both, it is true ; but 
it is only because we are so constituted as to make 
it a matter of intuition. Let it be distinctly under- 
stood, therefore, that our conviction of the exist- 
ence of the sensible world does not rest on a logical 
deduction from the facts of sensation, or of sensa- 
tion and consciousness. It rests on the constitution 
of our nature. It is resolvable into a fundamental 
law of belief. It is held, not as a logical infer- 
ence, but as a first principle. With the faculties 
we possess, and in the circumstances in which we 
are placed, the idea grows up in the mind, and we 
cannot expel it if we would. 



56 THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



Now the question arises, On what does a devout 
man's conviction of the existence and reality of 
the spiritual world depend ? I answer, On the very 
same. He is conscious of spiritual impressions or 
perceptions, as he also is of sensible impressions or 
perceptions ; but he does not think to demonstrate 
the existence and reality of the objects of either 
by a process of reasoning. He does not take the 
facts of his inward experience, and hold to the exist- 
ence and reality of the spiritual world as a logical 
deduction from these facts, but as an intuitive sug- 
gestion grounded on these facts. He believes in 
the existence and reality of the spiritual world, just 
as he believes in his own existence and reality, and 
just as he believes in the existence and reality of 
the outward universe, — simply and solely because 
he is so constituted that with his impressions or 
perceptions he cannot help it. If he could, it 
would be to begin by assuming it to be possible that 
his faculties, though in a sound state and rightly 
circumstanced, may play him false ; and if he could 
begin by assuming this as barely possible, there 
would be an end to all certainty. Demonstration 
itself, ocular or mathematical, would no longer be 
ground of certainty. It is said that sophistical 
reasoning has sometimes been resorted to in proof 
of the existence and reality of the spiritual world; 
and this perhaps is true : but the error has con- 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 



57 



sistecl in supposing that any reasoning is necessary. 
It is not necessary that a devout man's conviction 
of the existence and reality of the spiritual world 
should rest on more or on better evidence than his 
conviction of the existence and reality of the sensi- 
ble world; it is enough that it rests on as much, 
and on the very same. It is enough that both are 
resolvable, as I have shown, into the same funda- 
mental law of belief ; and that, in philosophy as 
well as in fact, this law ought to exclude all doubt 
in the former case, as well as in the latter. 

But how, it may be asked, according to the 
views here presented, can we account for the fact 
of such different and conflicting spiritual impres- 
sions or perceptions ? If a spiritual world really 
exists, why do not all men apprehend it alike ? 
Because, I hardly need reply, it is contemplated 
under such widely different aspects, and by per- 
sons whose spiritual faculties and capacities are 
variously developed, and above all because in 
spiritual things the best people are so prone to mix 
up and confound their inferences with their simple 
perceptions. There is nothing, therefore, in the 
real or apparent diversity of our spiritual impres- 
sions or perceptions which should shake our confi- 
dence in the principle, that, to a rightly constituted 
and fully developed soul, moral and spiritual truth 
will be revealed with a degree of intuitive clear- 
8* 



58 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



ness and certainty equal at least to that of the ob- 
jects of sense. Besides, a like diversity in our 
views and theories prevails in respect to the mate- 
rial world ; but nobody thinks, merely on the 
strength of this, seriously to raise a doubt whether 
the material world exists at all. And it is further 
urged, that the most spiritual men may sometimes 
be tempted to say of their religious experience, 
" Perhaps it may turn out to be an illusion ; " yet 
it should be recollected that this is no more than 
what they may also, in moments of inquietude and 
despondency, be tempted to say of all their expe- 
rience. They may say of all their experience, 
" Perhaps it may turn out to be an illusion." At 
this very moment, when I seem to myself to be 
writing a discourse on the Christian evidences, 
how do I know but that really I am in my bed 
dreaming about it ? We may talk in this way, I 
know, about dreams, illusions, visions ; but it is 
certain that to a well constituted and well ordered 
mind it never has occasioned any real doubt or dif- 
ficulty, nor ever can, in regard to ordinary life ; 
and for the same reason neither ought it to do so 
in regard to the life of the soul. 

Once more. What, according to the doctrine 
advocated in these pages, shall we reply to those 
who may affirm that they never had any of our 
alleged spiritual impressions or perceptions ? Pre- 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 



59 



cisely what we should to those who might say that 
they never had any of our alleged moral impres- 
sions or perceptions ; any sense of justice, or honor, 
or disinterested benevolence, or natural affection. 
We should reply, — that we are very sorry for it. 
If, however, along with their scepticism they evince 
any love of the truth, any desire or willingness to 
have their doubts dispelled, any tenderness of con- 
science or of soul, we may reason with them, and 
not without some prospect of convincing them that 
their want of faith is to be ascribed to one or both 
of the two following causes : either to a vicious or 
defective development of their nature, or to their 
insisting on a kind of evidence, of which the sub- 
ject, from its very nature, is not susceptible. Either, 
from some defect or vice of their peculiar moral 
constitution or training, they are not prepared to 
appreciate the only appropriate or possible evidence 
in the case ; or, from ignorance of true philosophy, 
they require the sort of evidence for truths ad- 
dressed to one faculty, which is available only in 
regard to truths addressed to another. By insist- 
ing on these topics, it is not improbable that many 
apparent atheists may be reclaimed. " In days of 
crisis and agitation," says an eminent French phi- 
losopher, " together with reflection, doubt and 
scepticism enter into the minds of many excellent 
men, who sigh over and are affrighted at their own 



60 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF 



incredulity. I would undertake their defence 
against themselves ; I would prove to them that 
they always place faith in something. . . . When 
the scholar has denied the existence of God, hear 
the man ; ask him, take him at unawares, and you 
will see that all his words imply the idea of God ; 
and that faith in God is, without his knowledge, at 
the bottom of his heart." 1 

As for the rest, the propagandists of atheism, the 
men who love atheism from eccentricity, or misan- 
thropy, or deadness of soul, — I say it with submis- 
sion, but I say it with the utmost possible confidence 
in the wisdom of the course, Let them alone. Con- 
version by the ordinary modes of instruction and 
argument is precluded. Gratify them not with a 
few short days of that notoriety which they so 
much covet. Leave them to the natural influences 
of their system ; leave them to the silent disgust 
which their excesses must awaken in a community 
not absolutely savage ; leave them to the cant and 
priestcraft of a few ignorant and interested leaders ; 
and it is not perhaps entirely past all hope that, 
in this way, some of them may be so far reclaimed 
as to become ashamed of their cause, ashamed of 
one another, and ashamed of themselves. 

Meanwhile let us hope that a better philosophy 
than the degrading sensualism, out of which most 

1 Cousin's Introduction to the History of Philosophy, pp. 179, 180. 



MAN'S SPIRITUAL NATURE. 61 

forms of modern infidelity have grown, will pre- 
vail ; and that the minds of the rising generation 
will be thoroughly imbued with it. Let it be a 
philosophy which recognizes the higher nature of 
man, and aims in a chastened and reverential spirit 
to unfold the mysteries of his higher life. Let it 
be a philosophy which comprehends the soul, — a 
soul susceptible of religion, of the sublime prin- 
ciple of faith, of a faith which " entereth into that 
within the veil." Let it be a philosophy which 
continually reminds us of our intimate relationship 
to the spiritual world ; which opens to us new 
sources of strength in temptation, new sources 
of consolation in trouble, and new sources of life 
in death ; nay, which teaches us that what we 
call death is but the dying of all that is mortal, 
that nothing but life may remain. Let it be a 
philosophy which prepares us to expect extraordi- 
nary manifestations of our heavenly Father's love 
and care, and which harmonizes perfectly with the 
sublime moral purpose and meaning of the gospel, 
" casting down imaginations and every high thing 
that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, 
and bringing into captivity every thought to the 
obedience of Christ." 

1834. 



62 



PROVIDE XCE. 



IV. 

PROVIDENCE* 

" Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not 
fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your 
head are all numbered." — ^Matthew x. 29, 30. 

r I ^HESE words will suggest the subject of my 
discourse : namely, the immediate and uni- 
versal providence of God. 

At first sight we might presume that every sin- 
cere and earnest student of nature would devoutly 
recognize the Creator in his works. But distin- 
guished names in the history of science will occur 
to every one. which remind us that it is not so ; 
and there is a well-known principle of the human 
mind, which will help us to explain the fact. It 
is the business of the physical inquirer to trace 
phenomena to what are called the laws of nature. 
and there stop. This, in time, begets a habit of 
mind which controls not only his curiosity, but his 
associations ; every phenomenon he beholds suggests 
the law which explains it, but nothing beyond the 



PROVIDENCE. 



63 



law. This liabit of mind will also be very apt to 
affect his modes of expression, and all his scientific 
expositions ; when he has referred an event to the 
laws of nature, he will think that he has gone as 
far as it is his province to go. 

Now we have no right to say of such a person, 
that he is an atheist ; we have no right even so 
much as to suspect that he has taken up and con- 
sidered the theological question, and come to the 
conclusion that there is no God. The most that 
we have a right to say is, that the religious refer- 
ences in the case have dropped oat of the chain of 
his associations. Still this alone is enough to show 
that, in one respect at least, the progress of science 
has been unfavorable to religious views of the uni- 
verse. Formerly, when every unusual and start- 
ling phenomenon was referred directly to God, God 
seemed to be nearer to men than now : he was 
more on their lips, he was more in their thoughts, 
than now. These laws of nature, which are re- 
ferred to so frequently, have to a certain extent 
usurped his place. i4 All things,"' we say, '-'take 
place according to the laws of nature; " as if noth- 
ing more was to be said about it ; as if these laws 
were to be rested in as an efficient and ultimate 
cause : as if they could explain any thing, until 
they are themselves explained ; as if they made the 
instant agency of the Deity any the less necessary, 



64 



PROVIDENCE. 



without whom not a sparrow fajleth to the 
ground. 

What are these laws of nature, which are thus 
allowed to form themselves into a sort of cloudy 
screen between us and God ? When Ave reason 
from adaptation to contrivance, and say that the 
world supposes a maker just as much as a watch, 
there is one point where the analogy fails. The 
watch-maker has the materials furnished to his 
hands. He does not make the laws of nature : he 
only makes use of them. He ascertains what these 
laws are ; and, knowing this, he puts the parts of 
the mechanism together, and the laws of nature 
do the rest. Accordingly we may say with suffi- 
cient propriety that the watch goes by virtue of 
the laws of nature, and not by the continued 
agency of the man who made it. But in the 
making and sustaining of the world it is otherwise. 
God not only framed the stupendous mechanism of 
the universe, but created the materials, and im- 
pressed upon them their respective laws, so that 
each might perform its part in the vast whole. 
With the mere mechanic, mechanism is every thing ; 
that is, the form, connection, and relative propor- 
tions of the parts : with God it is as nothing. He 
might have adopted a different mechanism, and 
still, by altering the laws of the parts relatively to 
each other, he might have brought about the same 



PROVIDENCE. 



65 



result. Every thing depends, therefore, on these 
laws ; but what do the laws themselves depend 
upon ? Are they any thing but the eonstant and 
immediate action of God on every particle of matter 
in the universe ? 

This is the conception which seems best to ac- 
cord with the nature of things, and the facts to 
be explained ; and accordingly it has been adopted 
not only by many divines and metaphysicians, but 
by some of the most earnest and single-minded of 
physical inquirers, with Sir Isaac Newton, himself 
a host, at their head. In the observations on the 
nature of the Deity, with which that wonderful 
man closes his " Optics," he declares that the 
various portions of the world, organic and inor- 
ganic, " can be the effect of nothing else than 
the wisdom and skill of a powerful, ever-living 
Agent ; who, being in all places, is more able by 
his will to move the bodies within his boundless 
uniform sensorium, and thereby to form and re- 
form the parts of the universe, than we are by 
our will to move the parts of our own bodies." 
This conviction would also seem to be gaining 
ground from the countenance it lias received of 
late from several of the leading minds in the 
scientific world. Thus Sir John Herschel, after 
speaking of certain fixed qualities and powers 
with which God has impressed the materials of 

E 



66 



PROVIDENCE. 



the universe, is careful to add : " We would in 
no way be understood to deny the constant exer- 
cise of his direct power in maintaining the system 
of nature, or the ultimate emanation of every 
energy which material agents exert from his 
immediate will, acting in conformity with its own 
laws." 1 Professor Whewell is still more explicit: 
"A law supposes an agent and a power; for it 
is the mode according to which the agent pro- 
ceeds, the order according to which the power 
acts. Without the presence of such an agent, of 
such a power, conscious of the relations on which 
the law depends, producing the effects which the 
law prescribes, the law can have no efficacy, no 
existence. Hence we infer that the intelligence 
by which the law is ordained, the power by which 
it is put in action, must be present at all times 
and in all places where the effects of the power 
occur ; that thus the knowledge and the agency 
of the Divine Being pervade every portion of the 
universe, producing all action and passion, all per- 
manence and change." 2 

With such authorities in favor of this concep- 
tion, I suppose I might take it for granted, and 
go on ; but, as the subject is an important one, I 
am tempted to add a suggestion or two, which 

1 Study of Natural Philosophy, p. 37. 

2 Bridgewater Treatise, b. iii. c. viii. p. 185. 



PROVIDENCE. 



67 



may help to familiarize minds unaccustomed to 
the subject with the idea, and dissipate half- 
formed objections and doubts. 

The phrase, " laws of nature," is a figure of 
speech borrowed from human legislation ; and, by 
pushing the analogy further than it will properly 
go, many slide into the belief that these laws were 
decreed once for all, like human laws, to exist and 
be in force ever afterwards of themselves. So it 
might have been, if, as in the case of human laws, 
there were minds to understand, remember, and 
apply them ; but nothing like this is true of inert 
matter. " Yes, but cannot inert matter be made 
to obey them ? " Certainly it can ; and that is 
just what we are maintaining. We only say that 
our conceptions of matter will not allow us to sup- 
pose that it can make itself obey them. It can do 
nothing whatever of itself : it can move only as it 
is moved. All this holds good even of what are 
called the mechanical laws of matter : how much 
more clearly and manifestly of the countless forces 
of life and growth, which we cannot conceive of, 
even in thought, except as dependent on the Force 
of all forces, in and through which they exist and 
act! Here, as it seems to me, the reasoning of Dr. 
Clarke is conclusive. " Matter is evidently not 
capable of any laws or powers whatsoever, any 
more than it is capable of intelligence, excepting 



63 



PBOVIDEXCE. 



only this one negative power ; that every part of it 
will alw r ays and necessarily continue in that state, 
whether of rest or motion, wherein it at present is. 
So that all those things which we commonly say 
are the effects of the natural powers of matter and 
laws of motion, — of gravitation, attraction, or the 
like, — are indeed (if we will speak strictly and 
properly) the effects of God's acting upon matter 
continually and every moment, either immediately 
by himself, or mediately by some created intelli- 
gent being." 

It is hardly to be expected that any one will 
revive the old Epicurean objection to this doctrine, 
that such continual overseeing and interfering must 
disturb the divine tranquillity. On the contrary, 
adopting the theory that the world was made in 
the beginning, and then wound up like a clock, 
and left to run on until it runs down, is it easy to 
repress the inquiry, What is the Creator doing 
meanwhile ? According to the common accepta- 
tion, it is essential to spiritual natures to be know- 
ing and active. If so, must we not believe that 
God, who is an Infinite Spirit, exists at every in- 
stant of time in every point of space, knowing and 
active ? Can we separate from the common, from 
the only true and legitimate, from the only possi- 
ble, conception of an Infinite Spirit the conviction 
that he is the universally diffused, all-sustaining, 



PROVIDENCE. 



69 



and all-directing Energy ? I think not. Reason- 
ing then from the nature of God, we come to the 
very same conclusion as in reasoning from the 
nature of matter. " The universe exists in God ; 
and every change in its state, from the extinction 
of a system of worlds to the falling of a feather 
from a sparrow's wing, is his act." It would save 
many minds from much perplexity and embarrass- 
ment on this subject, if they would give over 
thinking to assign to the Infinite Spirit a local 
centre of thought and activity. If they must 
have a sensorium, let it be Newton's " boundless 
uniform sensorium." God, as it has been sub- 
limely said, is a circle whose centre is everywhere, 
whose circumference is no where : " overseeing " 
and " interference," therefore, are words which in 
respect to him have no meaning. 

Another objection to the religious view here 
taken of the divine agency, is sometimes insisted 
on by a different class of minds. It would detract, 
they think, from the skill of the Divine Architect, 
to suppose that in the fabric of the universe he 
has put together a piece of mechanism which re- 
quires mending or interposition of any sort. Un- 
doubtedly it would, but nothing like this is said or 
intended. Here I might protest, if it were neces- 
sary, against this practice of drawing illustrations 
of the divine agency almost exclusively from the 



70 



PROVIDENCE, 



slight and inadequate analogy of mechanical 
contrivances ; but it is not. Let it be that the 
mechanism of the universe is perfect ; that it 
never wears out ; that it never needs readjust- 
ment. One thing, however, should be remem- 
bered : it is essential to the very idea of mechanism 
that a force be applied, — some weight, or spring, 
or other power which is continually acting upon it, 
and from which all its motions are derived. Now, 
in the case of the mechanism of the universe, 
where is this moving force to be found but in 
the universally diffused, all-directing, ever-active 
energy of God ? 

But it may be asked again, is it not derogatory 
to the dignity of the Supreme Being, that he 
should " set his hand to everything," — even to 
things mean and unimportant ? This objection is 
as old as Aristotle. " If," said he, " it were not 
congruous in respect of the state and majesty of 
Xerxes, the great king of Persia, that he should 
condescend to do all the meanest offices himself, 
much less can this be thought suitable in respect 
of God." How paltry and insignificant do these 
distinctions of earthly pride appear, when viewed 
in relation to the divine presence and agency ! 
Who shall say what things are " mean and insig- 
nificant," when it is considered that every link in 
the chain of events is alike indispensable to the 



PROVIDENCE. 



71 



mighty results which an all-wise Providence is 
slowly unfolding ? Besides, what are differences 
of the finite to the Infinite ? Grant that He stoops 
to take care of the solar system, and I find no dif- 
ficulty in supposing that he also stoops to take 
care of man, of an insect, of a worm. 

Accordingly I hold, that in the natural world 
the hand of God is everywhere in every thing, 
holding the sun in its place, and also the mote in 
the sun's beam : the volcano and the bursting 
flower equally announce his presence. We talk 
about laws and mechanisms and organisms ; and 
no one can object to this, for such they are to our 
minds : but when we ask ourselves what they are 
in themselves, what gives life and force to the 
whole, the veil is lifted, and the constant and 
immediate agency of the Infinite Mind stands 
revealed. Suppose this all-sustaining, self-sus- 
tained agency to be withdrawn for an instant, and 
the law, and the mechanism, and the organism 
would cease to act, would cease to be ; the uni- 
verse itself rush back into its primitive nothing- 
ness. The error of the pantheists consists in 
identifying nature with God ; the error of the 
mechanical philosophers consists in making nat- 
ure independent of God, at least in its present ex- 
istence and operation. Both errors are to be 
avoided ; the latter as well as the former : other- 



72 



PROVIDENCE. 



wise we shall lose ourselves in the phenomena, the 
appearances, and make no account of the reality. 
It was not without reason that Newton " thought 
it most unaccountable to exclude the Deity only 
from the universe," — the Deity by whom it is 
upheld and filled. Speculations are going on at 
this moment respecting the nature of light, and 
the profound affinities of electricity and magnet- 
ism, and even life itself, which seem to point to 
laws of nature which transcend matter. We may 
presume that these will have a tendency to lead 
science to take a more spiritual and religious view 
of nature itself. The office of science will still 
be to trace phenomena to the laws of nature ; but 
when to the eye of faith these laws are seen to 
resolve themselves into the direct agenc} r and con- 
trol of the Lord of Nature, instead of forming a 
cloudy screen between us and him, they will help 
us to feel and to know that everywhere and at ail 
times we are in his immediate presence. 

If this conception of the laws of nature be 
accepted as the true one, what need is there of a 
labored argument to prove an immediate and uni- 
versal Providence without which not a sparrow falls 
to the ground ? Nature itself is providence, and noth- 
ing but providence ; its laws are not merely the work 
of God, they are God Working ; and, as we have 
seen before what the character of the Lord of 



PROVIDENCE. 



73 



Nature is, we may infer what the character of 
this providence must be. 

But there are two or three points of view under 
which the doctrine of providence, as here unfolded, 
deserves and requires particular notice. 

In the first place, when rightly understood and 
applied, it will banish for ever the thought of 
chance, accident, or fortune, as having nothing what- 
ever to do with the course of events. And here 
the error is deeper and more widely spread than 
many are willing to suppose. As it has been justly 
said: "Some things look so like chance that we 
have difficulty in connecting them with the notion 
of Providence. We think the sparrow not formed 
by chance ; we argue a Creator there : but by 
chance we think it may fly hither and thither. In 
human life many occurrences have a very fortuitous 
appearance. We cannot trace either their causes 
or their consequences. They are as the tree which, 
we sa}^, happened to fall in one direction and not 
in another. They are as the wind which, we also 
say, happened to blow from one point of the com- 
pass yesterday, and from another to-day." " Our 
language is framed on the supposition of a mingling 
of accident with order, of chance with design. It 
is framed on a false supposition. We are often 
aware of this on reflection ; and yet we are so 
familiarized with such language, that we perhaps 
4 



74 



PROVIDENCE. 



unconsciously delude our own minds by its use, 
and keep up a notion of the incompatibility of 
a Providence with the particular events so de- 
scribed." 1 

Looking back on the past history of mankind, it 
is easy to see that two opposite tendencies have 
been at work, at different stages in the development 
of human thought, to impair or dim the doctrine of 
a strictly immediate and universal Providence. At 
first men saw the hand of God only in strange and 
startling phenomena, — in the whirlwind, the light- 
ning, the earthquake. Afterwards, as these also fell, 
one after another, under the domain of order and law, 
and were explained and accounted for by science 
on mechanical principles, men began to see design 
in the whole, but not the instant and constant 
presence and influence of the Designer in the whole 
and in every part. Now we must not expect that 
science will go back: this would be to contradict 
and falsify the experience of ages and the nature 
of truth itself. Let science go on, and demonstrate 
that every thing is ordered. It is not by chance 
that a bird flies hither or thither : the tree does 
not happen to fall, or the wind to blow, this way 
or that : all is ordered. But we must go one step 
further. We must enter into the sublime concep- 
tion, that the life and soul of this order, the all- 

1 Fox's " Christ and Christianity," i. 177. 



PROVIDEXCE. 



To 



sustaining, ever-active energy without which the 
whole would be nothing, without which not a leaf 
in the forest stirs, is God. 

Again, it has been customary to lay a good deal 
of stress on the distinction between a General 
Providence and a Particular Providence, especially 
as regards the efficacy of prayer : but in the 
doctrine here maintained of an immediate and uni- 
versal Providence, this distinction disappears, and 
with it many difficulties both speculative and 
practical. 

If by a general providence nothing more is meant 
than the general provision which God has made for 
mankind in the laws and constitution of nature, as 
framed by him in the beginning aod set in motion, 
to go on afterwards of itself, — I can easily see that 
this view of Providence cannot and ought not to 
satisfy the longings of the soul. If this were all, 
man would feel himself to be standing amidst the 
play of a vast and complicated machinery, which 
is working out his destiny and that of all other 
beings, — it knows not, and it cares not, how or 
why. Should he pray, it must be on the ground 
that he himself and his prayers make a part of the 
machinery just mentioned, which was foreseen and 
provided for when the whole was first put together. 
But with what heart, with what truth or natural- 
ness of feeling, could he utter his supplications, if 



76 



PROVIDENCE. 



he believed that the prayer he is making now was 
granted or denied six thousand years ago ? 

Not satisfied with this, the religiously disposed 
have turned instinctively to a particular providence. 
But here again we meet with difficulty. If by a 
particular providence is meant a special interposi- 
tion of the Deity ; if it is meant that God occasion- 
ally breaks into the course of nature, and acts 
directly and immediately, when otherwise he would 
not act at all, — it supposes a violent change in the 
mode of the divine agency in favor of the in- 
dividual, which those who most deserve it would 
have too much humility to expect ; or, if they did, 
I am afraid its effect on their humility and on their 
whole character would be any thing but good. 
There is much force in a remark of Dr. Brown : 
" There are many minds, perhaps the greatest 
number, in which the constant habit of ascribing 
every little beneficial event to some interposition of 
the Divine Power in their particular favor, tends to 
cherish a sort of isolating selfishness, which, in its 
own peculiar relation to events that are supposed 
to be out of the common course of things, almost 
loses the comprehensive and far more important 
relation of Nature to the whole human race," 1 

To the doctrine of a Providence at once im- 
mediate and universal, none of these objections 

1 Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect, p. 538. 



PROVIDENCE. 77 

apply. As it is absolutely universal, its tendency 
cannot be, like that of a belief in special inter- 
positions, to nourish an egotistic or clannish spirit, 
under the impression that God is our God in a 
way in which he is not the God of all mankind. 
At the same time, as it is immediate, it entirely 
meets and satisfies that want of the soul out of 
which, as we have seen, the doctrine of a particular 
and special providence arose. It opens the way by 
which every individual soul can be brought into 
instant and immediate communion with the Living- 
God. We no longer feel ourselves to be stand- 
ing amidst the play of a vast and complicated 
machinery which is doing it knows not what : 
every motion, every breath around us proclaims 
the instant presence and instant action of the 
Divinity. You kneel beside the pallid and wasted 
form of one whose malady baffles all human skill, 
and pray that his life may yet be spared. You 
feel, you know, that you are not speaking into the 
air : } t ou feel, you know, that the event is still in 
the hands of one who is acting now, who acts con- 
sciously and freely, who hears every word you say. 
That any remedy has any effect whatever is wholly 
owing to the conscious and instant agency of God ; 
and what that effect shall be in any particular in- 
stance will depend on the law which his unerring 
Wisdom prescribes at the time to his Omnipotent 
Will. 



78 



PROVIDENCE. 



There is also another aspect under which this 
doctrine recommends itself, at least to Christians ; 
it scatters to the winds the common philosophical 
objections to the credibility of miracles. A mira- 
cle has been variously defined by Christian writers. 
Sometimes it has been made to be " a violation of 
the laws of nature ; " sometimes, " an extraordi- 
nary effect of an extraordinary cause," God acting 
immediately in this case, and in this case only, as 
44 one of the powers of nature." But some minds 
find a difficulty in believing that there is, or can 
be, any thing like violation or interposition in the 
laws of nature, or the providence of God. Under- 
stand, then, that all events, common as well as 
miraculous, are caused by the constant and im- 
mediate agency of Divine Power : in this respect 
there is no difference ; one is no more of the nature 
of an interposition than the other. Understand, 
likewise, that what we call " the laws of nature " 
are nothing but the uniformity of the divine 
action ; and again, that God observes this uni- 
formity as a general rule, not on account of any 
thing in the uniformity itself, but simply and solely 
because he sees, in each particular instance, that it 
is best for his creatures. The law of his own 
nature, the law of infinite wisdom and goodness, 
moves him to do, in each particular instance, what 
he sees to be best for his creatures : this is the only 



PROVIDENCE. 



79 



law which has any thing to do with the divine 
conduct. Suppose now an exigency to arise (as 
in the case of the first promulgation of the gospel), 
when it is manifestly best for his creatures that he 
should deviate from his customary uniformity of 
action, — do you not perceive that in this case all 
the reasons and all the law which move him at 
other times to observe this uniformity, must move 
him now to depart from it? The miracle, there- 
fore, is not a violation of the only law on which 
the uniformity of nature depends, but necessary to 
its fulfilment. 

To the Christian, therefore, I repeat it, this view 
of nature and providence must recommend itself, 
because it takes from the miraculous evidence, on 
which in part at least his faith must rest, the 
anomalous character it has sometimes been made 
to wear. A real miracle is not of the nature of 
an interposition, neither is it a violation of 
the law of the Divine Nature. All events are 
what they are, through the constant and instant 
action of the Divinity; and, if in any case they 
deviate from the customary uniformity of nature, 
it is only because it is necessary to the immutability 
of God ; for this immutability, as every one must 
perceive, does not consist in his acting in the same 
way under an essential change of circumstances, 
but in his acting in all circumstances from the same 



80 



PROVIDENCE. 



eternal principle of love. It must, also, recom- 
mend itself to Christians as being; what the Saviour 
and his apostles taught. The doctrine of Provi- 
dence, which I have been endeavoring though fee- 
bly and inadequately to set forth, is pre-eminently 
the Christian doctrine. " Are not two sparrows 
sold for a farthing ? and one of them shall not fall 
on the ground without your Father. But the very 
hairs of your head are all numbered." " Of Him, 
and through Him, and to Him are all things." 
" In Him we live, and move, and have our being.'' 
Thus far I have spoken of the providence which 
God exercises over the material world, over nat- 
ure, and over man only in so far as he is related to 
nature and influenced by it. But it would hardly 
do to pass from this subject without saj'ing a few 
words on what is at once the most interesting and 
the most difficult part : I mean the providence 
which God exercises over the spiritual world, over 
minds. 

Here there is a marked difference growing out of 
the essential distinction between matter and spirit. 
The distinguishing characteristic of matter is iner- 
tia : it moves only as it is moved; it acts only as 
it is acted on. The distinguishing characteristic of 
spirit is self-activity : it moves itself; it is a free 
cause. Herein, perhaps, more than in any thing 
else, man resembles his Creator ; he is, in short, a 



PROVIDENCE. 



81 



kind of limited and dependent creator : he creates 
his own volitions ; he can begin a new series of 
events. God has seen fit to invest him with a 
freedom ivhich he himself respects : hence man's 
responsibility, glory, peril. The planets are not 
free to move in their orbits, or not ; the flowers of 
the field are not free to expand their leaves and 
diffuse their fragrance, or not; even the animals 
are not free to follow out, or not, those mysteri- 
ous instincts which have been wrought into their 
organization, as a kind of vision or dream. But 
man — the soul — is free ; free to do or not to do ; 
to obey or disobey, to yield to or resist even 
divine influences and suggestions. 

Here, as I have said, is a remarkable peculiarity ; 
how is it provided for ? As Dr. Price observes : 
" It would be denying the doctrine of Providence 
entirely, and making the universe in a manner for- 
lorn and fatherless, to suppose that all that the 
Deity does, is to endow beings with powers and affec- 
tions, and then to turn them out into a wide thea- 
tre, there to scuffle as they can, and do what they 
please, without taking any care of them, or pre- 
siding over their affairs, We cannot be more sure 
of the moral perfections of the Deity, than we are 
that this is false." 1 But man's condition in this 
world would not be very different from that which 

1 Four Dissertations, p. 98. 
4* F 



82 



PROVIDENCE. 



is here described, if God's providence extends no 
further than to his outward circumstances, leaving 
him to be affected by them as he may. Indeed, on 
the most general grounds, I cannot divest myself 
of the conviction, that the Infinite Spirit must act 
in and through his spiritual creation, by virtue of 
an intimacy far more profound than any which does 
or can exist between him and unconscious nature. 
Then, too, the inward experiences of every man 
that lives, — the sense of dependence, the instinct 
of prayer, the effort to raise himself above him- 
self, the aspiration after the perfect and the infi- 
nite, — what are these but so many intimations 
that we were made to be sustained and filled by a 
strength and a light which are not our own ? That 
this doctrine springs up naturally in a pious and 
thoughtful mind, even without the aid of revela- 
tion, appears from the following statement of it, 
as given by one of the most spiritually minded of 
the ancient sages : " Let your soul receive the 
Deity as your blood does the air ; for the influ- 
ences of the one are no less vital than the other. 
This correspondence is practicable ; for there is an 
ambient, omnipresent Spirit, which lies as open 
and pervious to your mind as the air you breathe 
does to your lungs. But then you must remember 
to be disposed to draw it." 

Provision is here made as well for the freedom 



PROVIDENCE. 



88 



as for the frailty of man. God does not break into 
the soul against its will, or without its consent : the 
most that he does is, in the expressive language of 
Scripture, to " stand at the door and knock." Man 
can open his soul by holy exercises, by humility, 
by prayer, by love ; or he can keep it shut. God 
is everywhere present and everywhere active in 
nature ; we cannot help being surrounded at all 
times by the universally diffused light and energy. 
Not only good men, but bad men, the worst of 
men, are immersed, if I may so express it, in the 
Divine Presence : still the rebel spirit can keep 
himself utterly false and dark. The reason is, that 
this Presence finds entrance into the soul only in 
so far as the soul is brought into harmony with it, 
or humbles itself before it. 

This I suppose to be the philosophical basis of 
the Christian doctrine of Divine Influences. Of 
course it is not pretended that there is any thing 
supernatural or miraculous in the ordinary influ- 
ences of the Spirit. They result from the constitu- 
tion of things as determined by the Creator ; and, 
so far as we are concerned, they appear to result 
from that constitution according to general and 
fixed laws. They are not arbitrarily bestowed ; 
they are not offered to one, and not to another, on 
any principle of partiality or selection. They are 
offered to all, — absolutely to all ; and they can be, 



84 



PROVIDENCE. 



and are, made available by all of every kindred 
and tongue, of every faith and worship, just in pro- 
portion as by holy exercises, by love, by self-sur- 
render, by humility and prayer, they put themselves 
into a condition to receive the needed Presence. 
Still, there would seem to be no good reason why 
an attempt should be made, from fear of extrava- 
gance and fanaticism, to confound the ordinary in- 
fluences of the Spirit with the operations of our 
own minds. We cannot be reminded too often that 
under paganism, and also under Christianity, the 
most debasing and revolting forms of extravagance 
and fanaticism have prevailed among the ignorant, 
precisely at those times when a cold, sceptical, and 
rationalizing spirit found most favor among the 
better informed. This Divine Presence, this spir- 
itual and heavenly succor, is shed abroad in our 
hearts as an influx of light and peace and joy, — a 
confidence, an energy, an impulse ; and hence it 
is not to be regarded as mental action of our own, 
but rather as the foundation of a better and higher 
mental action of our own. Even Cicero could say, 
" there never was a truly great man without di- 
vine inspiration." In one word, what we mean is 
simply this : as a man may be filled with the spirit 
of selfishness, and in this case will act from selfish 
influences ; or, with the spirit of the world, and in 
this case will act from worldly influences, — so may 



PROVIDENCE. 



85 



he also, in the same proportion as he makes him- 
self like God, or humbles himself unreservedly 
before him, be rilled with the Spirit of God ; and 
in this case he will act from Divine influences. 

I meant to say something of the place which 
prayer holds in this view of the providence which 
God exercises over the spiritual world ; but I for- 
bear. When we undertake to reason about what 
does not belong to the reasoning faculties, but to the 
affections, we soon find ourselves involved in inex- 
tricable difficulties. It is not that the thing itself 
is not reasonable : we feel that it is reasonable ; 
but we feel, at the same time, that it is not a mat- 
ter of reasoning. And the difficulty is complicated 
still further, when what we have to consider not 
only belongs to the affections, but is a spontaneous 
tribute of those affections. The moral and reli- 
gious affections are in themselves essentially disin- 
terested ; and of course what they do and say is 
essentially untranslatable into the language of self- 
ishness. Thus it is, as a general rule, that the 
heart alone can understand itself, and the reason- 
ableness and the profit of its own offerings. To be 
able therefore to answer the question, What profit 
is there in prayer ? we must enter into its spirit ; 
and, as soon as we do enter into its spirit, we shall 
cease to take much interest in the question. 

Time also fails me to speak as I should of the 



86 



PROVIDENCE. 



spiritual discernment, and earnest and living faith, 
imparted to those in whom the Spirit of God dwells. 
A foreign writer has said of that great light which 
has lately gone down among us : <c All true light he 
regarded as proceeding from the higher sentiments 
of the soul, receiving and manifesting God's spirit. 
To keep his own nature pure, reverential, loving, 
unstained by the passions, unsullied by appetite 
and sense, so that God might find it ready for his 
impulses, and be able to breathe his Holy Spirit 
through it, — this he regarded as the highest and 
surest preparation for the reception of Spiritual 
Truth. And the sense proceeding to him from such 
states, of the goodness of God, of the destination 
and true happiness of man, of an all-embracing 
love as the only principle of a beneficent connec- 
tion with one another, or with the universe ; of the 
blessedness of obeying conscience ; of the sure tri- 
umph and eternal vindication of Righteousness and 
Mercy, — was not to him a mere human or fallible 
impression, but the solemn affirmation of Almighty 
God." 1 

If what I have now said is true, God is really 
present and active throughout nature and in all 
good men, in a sense and to a degree much beyond 
what the common opinion, or the common speech, 
seems to recognize. The promise of philosophy has 

1 Christian Teacher, vol, v. p. 106. Jan. 1843. 



PROVIDENCE. 



87 



always been to give us back the simplicity of wis- 
dom as a substitute for the simplicity of ignorance, 
which it has taken away ; to give us back simplicity 
of life, simplicity of manners, simplicity of faith. 
May we not hope that it will make this promise 
good ? The child listens to the thunder as the voice 
of God ; the savage listens to the sighings of the 
wind through the primeval forests as the breathing 
of the Great Spirit. Both are right, according to 
their apprehension of things. Philosophy, a de- 
vout and Christian philosophy, would only extend 
this solemn and awful recognition of the Divine 
Presence, and " see God in every thing, and every 
thing in God." 

1813-1856. 



88 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



V. 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



"1 know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art 
dead." — Revelation iii. 1. 



INNERS, in whom the better principles of 



human nature are entirely overpowered by 
evil habit, are said in Scripture and elsewhere to 
be spiritually dead. I purpose to speak, in this 
discourse, of the nature, the causes, and the 
remedy of spiritual death. 

In speaking of this state, let us take care, in the 
first place, never to mistake for spiritual death 
what is not that, though it may resemble it in some 
respects. There are those, everybody knows, who 
are constitutionally cold and phlegmatic, — cold 
and phlegmatic in every thing, — who are never 
excited, who are never warm. Look at them in 
all their relations ; follow them into all their occu- 
pations. They are not ardent in their friendships 
or their enmities, or in the pursuit of knowledge, 
or of gain, or of pleasure. Now it would be pre- 




SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



89 



posterous to expect such persons to be otherwise 
than phlegmatic in religion, when compared with 
Christians of a more sanguine temperament. And 
yet, they are not spiritually dead. They are as 
much alive to religion as the} r are to any thing. 
Besides, there is nothing in their constitutional 
coldness and phlegm to hinder them from acting 
habitually on religious principles ; or from being 
swayed on the whole by a religious spirit : which 
is all that is absolutely indispensable to a religious 
life. It is true, they are not likely to have enough 
of earnestness and devotion, to counteract strong 
antagonist feelings ; but then, it is also true of 
the persons now under consideration, that by the 
very constitution of their nature they do not have 
strong antagonist feelings to be counteracted. 
They maybe said, therefore, to require — they can 
get along with — less intensity of religious feeling 
than other people, because in them the passions, 
propensities which are apt to come into conflict 
with religious feelings, are also proportionably less 
intense. And what say the Scriptures ? " Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, 
with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with 
all thy strength." Here you will observe, that 
the abstract amount of affection required is not 
stated ; one fixed and absolute standard is not set 
up for all persons; it is not said, with precisely 



90 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



how much heart, soul, mind, and strength we 
must love the Lord our God : it is enough if we 
love hiin, each one with all the heart, and soul, 
and mind, and strength that he has. 

Again, we must not mistake for spiritual death 
that outward reserve on religious subjects, which 
sometimes springs from the very intensity of the 
feelings, or at least from an extreme and morbid 
delicacy of the feelings. Our Lord says, it is true, 
" Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
speaketk. A good man, out of the good treasure 
of his heart, bringeth forth good things ; and an 
evil man, out of the evil treasure, bringeth forth 
evil things." That is, a man's conversation, if he 
says any thing, will be likely to be pure or impure, 
according to the predominant bias of his affections 
and inclinations. But it is by no means asserted 
or implied here, and it is by no means in accord- 
ance with experience and observation, that those 
men are always the most talkative whose hearts are 
the fullest. The direct contrary to this would be 
nearer the truth. As a general rule, people every- 
where hesitate to say much, or to speak freely, 
about their deepest and most delicate feelings : 
partly from a difficulty to find words adequate to 
express them ; partly from a fear that the}* will 
not meet with a hearty sympathy in other minds ; 
and partly from an almost invincible repugnance 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



91 



to lay bare to vulgar gaze the mysteries of the 
inner roan. Occasionally you may meet with 
those 'who are fond of talking about their religious 
experiences ; and it is not for me, or for you, to 
judge, or even to call in question, their sincerity, 
or the reality of their experiences. But this we 
think we may say : with sensible people, the in- 
dications of suppressed feeling weigh more, a 
thousand times more, as evidence of real and deep 
emotion, than having the same feeling uttered and 
exaggerated. 

But surely I need not labor this point. As 
some men are constitutionally cold and phleg- 
matic, so others, who are far from being cold and 
phlegmatic, are yet constitutionally reserved and 
uncommunicative, — reserved and uncommunica- 
tive in matters of business, as well as in the things 
of the Spirit. Now I do not say that this habitual 
reserve, this indisposition to free communion of 
thought and feeling on religious subjects, cannot 
be carried too far. I do not say that it never 
amounts to a fault. On the contrary, I believe 
that it is often a very great fault, and that Chris- 
tianity has suffered as much from this fault in 
its enlightened friends, as from almost any other. 
Still I maintain, and after what has been said I 
hope it is sufficiently obvious, that outward reserve 
as regards religion is not in itself, and does not of 
itself, necessarily argue or imply spiritual death. 



92 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



What, then, is spiritual death? It consists in 
the absence of that sensibility of soul by which 
men are made capable of feeling and appreciating 
spiritual things. Sometimes this arises from the 
fact that the spiritual element in our nature has 
never been excited and developed ; the man has 
never been spiritually born. But it is more 
frequently owing to a torpor or palsy which, from 
some cause, comes over the spiritual faculties after 
their partial development, to such a degree as, in 
some instances, entirely to destroy and suspend 
their vital and legitimate functions. He still is 
alive to other things, — alive, and perhaps in- 
tensely alive, to the pleasures of sense, to the pur- 
suits of gain, to a love of power and fame ; to 
every thing, in short, which does not involve the 
presence and activity of the moral and spiritual 
faculties : but so far as these are concerned he is 
dead. When we say that a man is spiritually 
dead, we do not mean that his body is dead ; nay, 
we do not mean that his mind is dead, so far as it 
is capable of being occupied exclusively on things of 
time, and sense, and self. He may even be emi- 
nent as a mathematician, or naturalist, or states- 
man ; and yet as regards all those feelings and 
exercises which involve the consciousness and the 
agency of his higher nature, and his relations to 
the spiritual world, he may be as dead as the 
drunken vagabond about the streets. 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



93 



This, then, is what we understand by spiritual 
death. Not a general and constitutional coldness 
in regard to all things, but a particular deadness 
and insensibility to every thing which is addressed 
to our spiritual nature; not a mere outward re- 
serve, but a torpor and palsy of the spiritual 
faculties. 

The Scriptures sometimes represent this under 
the figure of a" second death : " for as there is a 
second birth, indicating that the body is born at 
one time and the spirit at another, so also is there 
a second death, indicating in like manner that the 
body may die at one time and the spirit at another. 
But there is this difference : though the spirit is 
never born first, it may die first, so far at least as 
it is susceptible of death. So far, I say, so far 
as it is susceptible of death ; for we must not urge 
the language of Scripture, or this analogy between 
the death of the body and the death of the spirit, 
too far. The death of the body is an utter and 
final dissolution of the body ; but the death of the 
spirit is nothing more, strictly speaking, than the 
inaction and temporary suspension of faculties 
which are in their own nature indestructible. Nay, 
it does not follow, because the soul is dead to 
every thing which constitutes its proper life, that it 
is dead to the want and misery occasioned by what 
may justly be termed a living death. However 



94 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



this may be, it is certain that the soul, so far as it 
can die, may die before the body ; that causes may 
now be in operation to destroy the proper life of 
the soul, and that the individual himself may 
voluntarily contribute to this effect, to his own 
spiritual self-destruction. It is, indeed, an appall- 
ing thought, that, where there is one suicide of the 
body, there are probably twenty, may I not say a 
hundred, suicides of the soul. 

Let us now advert briefly to some of the causes 
conspiring to induce that indifference and insensi- 
bility to spiritual things, which constitutes, as we 
have seen, spiritual death. 

And first, I would say, that less is to be feared, in 
this connection, from erroneous than from lifeless 
training. A writer, of whom our country and the 
age may justly boast, has said : " I do not think 
that so much harm is done by giving error to a 
child, as by giving truth in a lifeless form. What 
is the misery of the multitudes in Christian 
countries ? Not that they disbelieve Christianity, 
or that they hold great errors, but that truth lies 
dead within them. They use the most sacred 
words without meaning. They hear of spiritual 
realities, awful enough to raise the dead, with 
utter unconcern ; and one reason of this insensi- 
bility is, that teaching in early life was so mechani- 
cal, that religion was lodged in the memory and 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



95 



the unthinking belief, whilst the reason was not 
awakened, nor the conscience nor the heart moved. 
According to the common modes of instruction, the 
minds of the young become worn to great truths. 
By reading the Scriptures without thought or feel- 
ing, their minds are dulled to their most touching 
and sublime passages ; and, when once a passage 
lies dead in the mind, its resurrection to life and 
power is a most difficult work." 1 

A kindred thought was presented long ago, by 
Dr. Priestley, in a sermon on " The Danger of Bad 
Habits," — cold and philosophical throughout in 
manner, yet one of the most solemn appeals ever 
made to the conscience ; the object being to prove 
that to many the day of judgment may be said 
to come before the day of their death. "A 
person," he observes, " who has studied, or who 
fancies he has studied, any particular subject, 
sooner or later makes up his mind, as we say, 
with respect to it ; and, after this, all arguments 
intended to convince him of his mistake, only 
serve to confirm him in his chosen way of think- 
ing. An argument or evidence of any kind, that 
is entirely new to a man, may make a proper im- 
pression upon him ; but if it has often been pro- 
posed to him, and he has had time to view and 

1 Dr. Channing's " Discourse on Sunday Schools," Christian 
Examiner, vol. xxii. pp. 74, 75. 



96 



SPIRITUAL BE A TH. 



consider it, so as to have hit upon any method of 
evading the power of it, he is afterwards quite 
callous to it, and can very seldom be prevailed 
upon to give it any proper attention. This con- 
sideration accounts, in some measure, both for the 
great influence of Christianity on its first publica- 
tion, when the doctrines were new and striking, 
and also for the absolute indifference with which 
the same great truths are now heard in all Chris- 
tian countries." 1 

It is high time that all, and that intelligent- 
Christians especially, should wake up to the im- 
portance of these suggestions. We are for ever 
extolling the power of truth, the value of sound 
and just views, and a rational and consistent 
faith ; and all this is well, provided the whole 
be instinct with a living spirit. But of what 
avail will be the truth itself, if held, I do not 
say " in unrighteousness," but in indifference and 
apathy ? We have, I know, the warrant of Script- 
ure for believing that it is the truth by which men 
are to be sanctified and made free ; but who has 
yet to learn that the truth which is to do this, is 
not truth contemplated as an abstraction, truth 
set forth in propositions, truth locked up in 
creeds ? It is living truth. It is truth in action, 

1 Discourses on Various Subjects. Birmingham, 1787, pp.374, 
375. 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



97 



truth considered as wrought into the very life, the 
truth which we live from day to day. But that this 
sort of truth may be dispensed, it is necessary that 
both preacher and hearer should reproduce it, each 
one in his own mind and heart. It is not enough 
that we receive it passively as a tradition, or adopt 
it passively on authority ; we must make it matter 
of inward experience, of spiritual consciousness, 
and thus reproduce it, as it were, in our own minds 
and hearts. And in this way, let me observe in 
passing, the oldest truths may again become as 
fresh and new to us, individually and personally, 
as when they first fell from the lips of the Great 
Teacher. 

Give us the living truth ; but, if we cannot have 
that, give us, in God's name, living error. As 
liberal Christians we are, beyond question, over- 
critical and fastidious in this matter. It may not 
be so with other denominations, but our chief 
danger grows out of an under current that is 
continually setting towards a dead rationalism. 
Give us, I repeat it, living error, rather than dead 
truth ; for the same maxim holds good in regard 
to our higher as well as our lower nature : " so 
long as there is life, there is hope." Besides, do 
we not know that a ship under sail, though a little 
off from its course, can get into it again in half the 
time it will take another vessel at anchor under a 
5 o 



98 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



headland, or waterlogged in a calm, to get under 
way ? 

Again, so far as religious indifference and in- 
sensibility are concerned, there is less to fear, as 
it seems to me, from the influence of an avowed 
and active scepticism than from the influence of 
a scepticism which is unacknowledged and merely 
passive. "Well and truly was it said by Arch- 
bishop Leighton : " Where there is a great deal of 
smoke, and no clear flame, it argues much moisture 
in the matter, yet it witnesseth certainly that there 
is fire there ; and therefore dubious questioning is 
a much better evidence than that senseless dead- 
ness which most take for believing. Men that 
know nothing in sciences have no doubts. He 
never truly believes who was not made first sensi- 
ble, and convinced of his unbelief. Never be 
afraid to doubt, if only you have the disposition 
to believe, and doubt in order that you may end 
in believing the truth." 1 If we must have an 
active or a passive scepticism, give us the first. 
An active scepticism will often cure itself, work 
itself clear of its difficulties; but there is no hope 
whatever for a man who will neither believe nor 
inquire. An active scepticism, moreover, does not 
imply an indifference to truth, nor prevent men 
from discriminating : so that, while it leads them 
1 Coleridge's "Aids/"' p. 61. 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



99 



to deny this thing and doubt that, it leaves their 
confidence in other things unimpaired, and per- 
haps strengthened and quickened. But it is of 
the nature of a latent and passive scepticism, by 
confounding the true with the false, and the cer- 
tain with the doubtful, to spread itself gradually 
over the whole subject, involving natural as well 
as revealed religion in the same doubt, and caus- 
ing them to be regarded with a like indifference. 
Under the influence of this spirit, the best that 
men can be expected to do is to settle down at 
last into the conceited and supercilious conclusion, 
that Christianity, whether true or not, is a good 
thing for society, and especially for the lower 
classes, and must not be disturbed. 1 

Yes, I earnestly contend that any thing is better 
than that senseless deadness here referred to, which 
sometimes passes for believing. Accordingly I do 
not participate, to any considerable degree, in the 
regret or alarm expressed by some at the tendency 
of modern scepticism to come forth into the light 
of day, and to put on a form of light and activity 
corresponding to the magnitude of the principles 
at stake. It is no evidence that scepticism and 
infidelity are on the increase : both have always 
existed to an extent far beyond what is generally 
supposed ; but it is the consequence of that spirit 

1 Christian Examiner, vol. xi. p. 191. 



100 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



which is abroad, leading men to sift all subjects 
to the bottom, and religion among the rest, with 
a determination to find whether it is founded in 
reality or not. And I, for one, welcome the 
change. Indeed, when I see deists, like Lord 
Herbert, praying on their bended knees that God 
would give them a sign from heaven to end their 
doubts ; when I see atheists shedding bitter tears 
over the conscious desolation which want of faith 
has brought on their whole inward being, — 
though the iron has entered into their souls, I feel 
that still, while there is pain, there is life ; and, 
while there is life, there is hope. Nay, I am 
almost tempted, under such circumstances, to 
pronounce a living scepticism better than a dead 
faith, as doing more to agitate and wake up a 
man's moral nature, to make him alive to the 
deep wants of his soul, and thus to put him into 
a condition to be affected and impressed hy exhi- 
bitions of divine truth, from whatever quarter 
they may come. And I am much mistaken if it 
does not appear in the end, that the design, the 
final cause, in the providence of God, of the recent 
development of what are called the sceptical ten- 
dencies of the age, is to purify, by means of a reac- 
tion, the dull, close, and suffocating atmosphere in 
which, to so great an extent, the selfishness and the 
worldliness, and the low and earthly utilitarian- 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



101 



ism of the times, have wrapped so large a portion 
of the Church. If there is no other way of re- 
generating nominal Christianity, — if there is no 
other way of raising men out of this state of 
passive, latent, unacknowledged scepticism, which 
is doing so much, gradually and insidiously, to 
waste away the heart and moral life of humanity, 
but by passing through a process of active scepti- 
cism, — I, for one, welcome the ordeal. And, under 
the sway of a God of omnipotence and truth, I 
have no more fear that religion itself is to go 
down, than I have that civilization is again to be 
engulphed in barbarism, or that the wild beasts 
of the desert will rise on mankind, and depopulate 
the earth. 

Once more, I need say but a word in illustration 
of what you all know, that sin, under any and all 
its thousand forms, leads to spiritual death. But 
it may be of more importance to observe here, that 
less perhaps is to be apprehended, so far as indif- 
ference and utter insensibility are concerned, from 
open, flagrant, and passionate crime, than from 
that worldliness and self-seeking which finds but 
little difficulty in disguising itself under a decent 
exterior, and keeping on good terms with itself 
and with society- Fanatics, as you are aware, 
have sometimes said that thieves and drunkards 
are nearer the Kingdom of Heaven than merely 



102 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



moral men ; and there is just enough of truth in 
this statement to give currency in some circles to 
the radical and pestilent error it conveys. It is 
true, beyond all doubt, that the man who has 
killed within himself the principle of virtue, with- 
out having cast off its most indispensable outward 
forms, or adopted those of gross vice, is less likel} 7 
to be startled in his downward course, is less likely 
to awake to the imminent peril of his situation, 
than one whose e very-day scenes and e very-day 
actions are of a nature to bring up before him 
visions of hell. 

Moreover, it is not enough considered that mere 
levity and frivolity may superinduce an impenetra- 
ble callousness upon the human heart ; and hi time, 
through the power of habit, m&y render it abso- 
lutely unimpressible by the weightiest and most 
interesting objects in the universe. And what 
shall I say of sensuality ? " She that liveth in 
pleasure is dead while she liveth." Self-surrender 
to the animal passions, — it is the grave of every 
thing that is pure, and noble, and good ; convert- 
ing man, by a sort of living metempsychosis, into 
the beast in whose tastes and propensities he 
grovels. Neither does the curse stop with the 
torpor and palsy of the soul, but pursues him at 
last, under the form of a sated appetite and a 
withered heart, even into all his forbidden indul- 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



103 



gences. Who has yet to learn that there are none 
who in effect extract so little happiness from 
pleasure as those who look to it as their sole or 
their highest gratification ? Excess blunts every 
faculty and every sense until the man of pleasure 
becomes as dead to animal as to spiritual enjoy- 
ment ; as dead to pleasure and the world as he is 
to religion and to God. 

But it is time to conclude. You will remember 
that spiritual death is not absolute death. It is 
but the inaction or suspension of faculties which 
are in their own nature indestructible. Under the 
government and providence of our Heavenly 
Father, and with the powerful aids and appli- 
ances of a spiritual faith and worship, despair is 
unpardonable sin, — despair either for ourselves 
or for others. It is only necessary that we should 
be apprized of our danger, and avail ourselves of 
the means of resuscitating or waking up our moral 
and spiritual nature. Evoke its latent energies, 
and put them forth in deeds of philanthropy and 
mercy ; commune with your own soul, and stand 
in awe of its mysterious revelations of the unseen 
and the infinite ; study the lives and cultivate the 
society of those whose faith and piety at once 
excite and attract all who come within the sphere of 
their influence ; resort as you may be able, and as 
you feel yourselves prepared, to earnest, heartfelt 



104 



SPIRITUAL DEATH. 



prayer, in which man is said, by a most expressive 
figure, to wrestle with God. Above all, have faith 
in him, at whose powerful word the grave gave 
up its dead ; have faith in him that he can also 
work the kindred miracle of raising your soul from 
the death of sin to the life of righteousness. 
Wherefore it is said, — and their line is gone out 
through all the earth, and their words to the end 
of the world, — "Awake, thou that sleepest, and 
arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee 
life ! " 

1837-1858. 



STRENGTHENING AN INFIRM FAITH. 105 



VI. 



MEANS OF STRENGTHENING AN INFIRM FAITH. 

" And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, 
Lord, I believe : help thou mine unbelief! " — Mark ix. 24. 

' I ^HE state of mind which the Evangelist ascribes 



to the father of the lunatic child is not un- 
common. It is the condition of one who has 
faith ; but yet is conscious at times of doubts by 
which his faith is weakened and disturbed. 

Such being the condition of many minds, per- 
haps of most thinking minds, it may be well to in- 
quire how this temptation or tendency to doubt 
may be prevented. In other words, What are 
some of the best means of strengthening an un- 
settled or infirm faith ? 

First of all, we should eradicate from our minds 
what may be called the conceit of scepticism. 

I do not suppose that all the scepticism in the 
world originates in one cause, or in causes all of 
which imply guilt. Something, doubtless, depends 
on organization ; something also on education, 




5* 



106 



MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 



societjr, public opinion, and other extraneous in- 
fluences for which the individual is, at most, but 
in part responsible. Still I cannot help suspecting 
that a principal consideration which reconciles many 
to being sceptical is the thought, that it argues 
more than usual strength or activity of mind ; that 
it is because they can see through what others can- 
not, and so are made less easy to be convinced. 
Whatever may be said of their doubts in a moral 
and religious point of view, they are fain to look 
upon them as the sign, perhaps as the penalty, of 
intellectual superiority. 

But is this conceit well founded ? I allow that 
doubting is commonly the result of thinking ; but 
not of successful thinking : it is the result of baf- 
fled thinking ; and is baffled thinking a sign of 
intellectual power? Again, the objections to a 
doctrine are generally obvious, palpable, on the 
outside, — anybody can understand them ; while 
the answers, for the most part, lie deeper, and so 
require more information, or greater reach of mind, 
in order to be appreciated, in order that their full 
force may be felt. For this reason, in a com- 
munity where it is the fashion for all to think for 
themselves, no small portion of the actual scepti- 
cism, secret or avowed, may be referred to the 
single circumstance, that multitudes have enough 
of intelligence to understand the objection, but not 



AN INFIRM FAITH. 



107 



enough to understand the answer. Certainly, 
therefore, it is not true of all scepticism, that it 
supposes mental superiority. 

Furthermore, a propensity to scepticism does 
not betoken the best style or cast of mind. Minds 
may be divided into two classes : some are con- 
structive, others destructive ; some apt to discover 
analogies and harmonies, others quick to detect 
defects or discrepancies ; some always trying to 
build up, others always trying to pull down. Now 
I suppose that most persons will go along with me 
when I say, that the first mentioned sort of mind 
is on every account to be preferred ; yet the scep- 
tically disposed belong to the last. I might illus- 
trate and confirm what I mean from history. 
Compare Socrates with the sophists of his day ; 
compare Bacon with Bayle ; compare Locke with 
Hume ; compare Newton with Laplace. I have 
no wish to detract aught from the acknowledged 
eminence of the last named in these several com- 
parisons, as regards what fell in with the peculiar 
bent of their genius. If acuteness and subtilty of 
intellect, if a power to analyze and dissect, to criti- 
cise and find fault and pull to pieces, were all that is 
required, some of the great sceptics might be set 
down, I suppose, as second to none. Unquestion- 
ably these men stand among the highest in the 
order to which they belong, but the order itself is 




108 MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 



not the highest. The habit of attending to minute 
distinctions and mere details unfits them more and 
more for making up a confident opinion respecting 
any large and complicated subject. They belong 
to a class of ingenious persons, who are for ever 
liable to be ensnared by their own ingenuity. 
They are so ready with their difficulties and objec- 
tions as to be more than a match even for them- 
selves ; and hence their scepticism. 

Again, therefore, I say, let no one hug his 
scepticism, or entertain it with complacency, from 
a conceit that it is the price he has to pay for 
his intellectual superiority. So far is this from 
being the case, that in a large majority of instances 
scepticism is the sign of nothing but a limited and 
baffled understanding ; and, even when it must be 
admitted to pertain to extraordinary powers, they 
are still, for the most part, the powers of a subtle 
and captious mind, but not those of a large, gen- 
erous, comprehensive, and effective mind. Excep- 
tions there may be ; but the general rule is as I 
have said. A man is not great because he can see 
difficulties, but because he can see through dif- 
ficulties : or, because he believes in what makes 
difficulties of no account, so that he can go on as 
if they did not exist. Accordingly we find that 
those who have been looked up to in all ages as 
lights and guides, — the great discoverers and in- 



AN INFIRM FAITH. 



109 



ventors, the great legislators, the great reformers, 
the great benefactors of the race, — have not been 
men of cloubt, but men of faith. 

Having thus discarded every vestige of the con- 
ceit of scepticism, the next rule to be observed by 
those who would cure themselves of a tendency to 
unsettled opinions, in morals and religion, is to 
abstain from dwelling unduly on the difficult and 
perplexing aspects of the subject. 

Eveiy subject has its difficult and perplexing 
aspects. Take the simplest fact in Nature ; con- 
sider it in all its connections and relations, and it 
will be found to run out into questions which all 
the triumphs of modern science leave as much in 
the dark as ever. Now where will you stop? 
Most persons, however sceptically inclined, would 
be willing to say, I suppose, that they should be 
content if they had as good evidence for the ex- 
istence of the soul, as they have for that of the 
body ; or as good evidence for the existence of 
the spiritual, world, as they have for that of the 
material world. Yet, even in respect to the body 
and the material world, doubts and difficulties have 
been raised which have made the strongest minds 
waver ; nay, books have been written, in all serious- 
ness and good faith, to demonstrate not only their 
non-existence, but their impossibility. And so in 
morals. Few things, I suppose, are clearer to the 



110 MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 



great bulk of mankind, or more universally re- 
cognized, than the great primary distinctions of 
right and wrong. Here again, however, uneasy 
and distrustful minds may push their questionings 
into that perplexing field of inquiry which has to 
do with hereditary biases, differences of organiza- 
tion, and the power of circumstances, or with the 
insolvable mystery of the Divine prescience and 
human free agency, until what before was as clear 
as noon-clay becomes hopelessly obscured and con- 
fused ; until they are ready to doubt whether there 
is any such thing as proper responsibility, whether 
conscience, after all, is not an empty name, or at 
best an unauthorized prejudice, — a mere figment 
of the brain. Thus, by dwelling exclusively on the 
difficult side of things, a man may lose all con- 
fidence even in what the world, whether infidel or 
not on the subject of religion, have agreed to set 
down among the best established conclusions of 
sense and reason. How it is that such a result 
should follow from such a course is easy of ex- 
planation. By dwelling on the difficult and per- 
plexing aspects of any subject, the mind is con- 
tinually exposed to a twofold cause of mistake. 
In the first place, the points of objection and dif- 
ference may be very few, compared with the points 
of general consent ; still, if we give a great deal 
more attention and thought to the former than to 



AN INFIRM FAITH. 



Ill 



the latter, we shall be tempted to believe that the 
proportion is reversed. Besides, the practical 
effect of objections to any doctrine depends much 
less on their number or weight than on the place 
we give them in our thoughts : on the amount 
of attention we pay to them. If, in other words, 
we think of them and nothing else, then it is 
plain that we shall know nothing about the sub- 
ject but its difficulties and objections, and we shall 
be doubters as a matter of course. The law is, 
that our minds are affected by what is present to 
them, and not by what is absent from them, 
whether it exists or not. This law manifests itself 
in many things which have nothing to do with 
morals or religion. For example : we almost 
always over estimate the merits of our friends, and 
under estimate the merits of our enemies. Why? 
The reason is, that in thinking of our friends we 
are apt to think only of their virtues, while in 
thinking of our enemies we are apt to think only 
of their defects and faults. Here, too, we find the 
origin of much that goes under the name of party 
rancor, with all its meannesses and injustice, and 
particularly its disposition to impeach the motives 
or question the sincerity of opponents, Wonder 
is often expressed that really good men, in propor- 
tion as they become zealous partisans, are so ready 
to lend themselves to these abuses; but it is only 



112 



MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 



another application of the above-mentioned law. 
When they think of their own party, they are apt 
to think of its good side only, but when they think 
of the party opposed to them, they are apt to think 
of its bad side only ; and, doing so, the effect of this 
on their own minds is just the same as if their party 
really had no bad side, and the other no good side. 

So likewise in respect to Christianity. If we 
never recur to it except to dwell on its difficulties 
and perplexities, and on the dark side of its 
history, it is plain that the effect on our minds will 
be the same as if these constituted the. whole of 
Christianity. Christianity has a multitude of other 
aspects which recommend it immediately and 
irresistibly to the reason and the heart ; but these 
are nothing to one who will not think on them, or, 
which is the same in effect, allows his mind to be 
wholly taken up with the difficult and perplexing 
aspects of the subject. 

What makes it worse in the case of Christianity 
is, that, when persons fall into doubt respecting it, 
they naturally turn to books on the evidences, and 
the burden of these books is still the difficulties 
and perplexities. Considering what these books 
are intended for, it cannot be otherwise ; they are 
written in order to make clear and plain, not what 
is clear and plain already, but what is not so. 
They may, therefore, be consulted with profit by 



AN INFIRM FAITH. 



113 



those who wish to view the subject on all sides, or 
whose faith labors on particular points. But where 
scepticism does not originate in want of informa- 
tion, and is not confined to particulars, but takes 
the form of a general distrust in regard to the 
whole subject (and this is the common character 
of modern scepticism), a resort to books on the 
evidences will often be found, I think, to aggravate 
rather than remove the evil. Modern scepticism 
resembles in one respect that disordered state of the 
affections called misanthropy, which justifies itself 
on the ground that men are the proper objects of 
a general distrust : both are general distrusts, and 
both are to be dealt with in the same way. Now 
would you think to cure a person laboring under 
the delusion of misanthropy, by advising him to 
dwell on the cases of real or supposed deception 
and treachery which have made him distrustful of 
everybod}^, in the hope that these will be cleared 
up to his entire satisfaction ? No : on the contrary, 
you would advise him to treat these cases as being 
at the worst but few and exceptional, and there- 
fore as not fairly representing human character ; 
and you would try to draw away his attention and 
his thoughts from these, and fix them on the bright 
side of human nature as represented by the mul- 
titude of good and upright men whom he has 
known. 



H 



114 MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 



For the same reason, the same or a similar course 
should be taken with those who have become in- 
fected in any way with religious scepticism as a 
general habit or disease. Let me not be misunder- 
stood. I do not mean that men should be afraid 
of the difficulties and objections in the way of 
faith, or try to hush up the controversy respecting 
them. All I contend for is simply this, that, in so 
vast and complicated a subject as religion, having 
to do at every step with the unseen and eternal, 
difficulties and objections must be expected ; and, 
as some of them are incident to the limitation and 
imperfection of the human faculties, they never 
can be entirely done away : so that we must 
believe, if we believe at all, in spite of these 
difficulties and objections. 

Having in view this state of things, all I ask of 
the sceptic is, that he would not give way to a 
morbid tendency of his mind to dwell on these 
difficulties and objections alone, but enter on a 
generous and comprehensive survey of the whole 
subject ; in which it will appear that the difficulties 
and objections are exceptional cases, the best an- 
swer to which is found in the cumulative, and to 
most minds overwhelming, evidence on the other 
side. The sceptic may hold, if he will, that to all 
human observation there are spots on the sun's 
disc ; I only ask him to admit, — and it would not 



AX INFIRM FAITH. 



115 



seem to be an unreasonable request, — I only ask 
him to admit that the sun shines, nevertheless. 

I will now suppose the sceptic to have cast away 
the conceit of scepticism, and also to be willing to 
survey the subject on all sides ; that is, to consider 
what he believes and knows, as well as what he 
doubts. If still he does not believe enough, and is 
anxious to believe more, his next step should be 
to make the most of what he does believe ; and this 
in two ways, logically and 'practically. 

In the first place, logically ; that is to say, he 
should consider not only how much he believes, in 
express terms, but also every thing which this 
implies or presupposes. This is the way, I suspect, 
in which thinking and independent minds com- 
monly expand themselves ; not by borrowing a 
fragment here and a fragment there, but by un- 
folding more and more what they already know. 
A striking example of what I mean is met with 
in Descartes, the founder of modern metaphysics. 
Wishing to establish human knowledge on a basis 
beyond the reach of attack, he began by doubting 
every thing which could be doubted, and went on 
this way, rejecting one thing after another, until 
he came to his own existence. This he found he 
could not doubt, because the very act of doubting 
supposed him to exist in order to doubt. Behold 
him, then, reduced in his faith to belief in his own 



116 MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 

existence ! This he could not help accepting as an 
incontestable fact, and with it, of course, what- 
ever it involved, implied, or presupposed. His 
next step was, therefore, to unfold this fact to see 
what it did involve, imply, or presuppose ; which 
he found to be every thing he had formerly been 
in the habit of taking on trust. Emanuel Kant is 
another example among the great thinkers who 
have recovered their faith in the same way. After 
having ruined by his criticism, as he thought, the 
common arguments for morality and religion, he 
still felt himself to be confronted by conscience, 
the authority of which he could neither deny nor 
call in question. Practically, he could not help 
admitting that he was bound by the moral law ; 
and, consequently, he could not help admitting 
what this on reflection was seen to involve, imply, 
or presuppose : to wit, liberty, immortality, and 
Divine Providence. The faith, therefore, which 
his speculative reason had shaken, was restored 
by his practical reason, so that he could go on 
with as much confidence as before. Here, I hardly 
need say, we have nothing to do with the sound- 
ness or unsoundness of the positions taken by 
these philosophers. They are referred to merely 
as showing how men of unsurpassed speculative 
power, joined to strong sceptical leanings, may 
begin with believing little and go on to believe 



AN INFIRM FAITH. 



117 



more and more, merely by considering what is in- 
volved, implied, or presupposed in this little ; that 
is to say, by making the most of this little. 

I am also reminded in this connection of Bishop 
Butler's "Analogy of Religion to the Course of 
Nature," which a competent judge 1 has pro- 
nounced " the most original and profound work 
extant in any language on the philosophy of reli- 
gion." The argument in this treatise is not 
addressed to atheists, but to semi-theists, like 
Bolingbroke, who admitted the existence of an 
intelligent Author and natural Governor of the 
world. Thus much being conceded, Bishop Butler 
proves that they cannot consistently stop here ; by 
showing that what they already believe involves 
the analogy — that is, the verisimilitude or proba- 
bility — of every thing else which religion teaches, 
together with all the difficulties and objections by 
which the subject is embarrassed. Some have 
complained that this celebrated work, from its 
peculiar structure and drift, is likely to raise more 
difficulties- and objections than it removes. This 
remark may hold good in respect to a certain class 
of minds ; Mr. Pitt told Wilberforce that it was so 
with him ; still the general rule is unquestionably 
on the other side. Besides, even in those cases 
where more difficulties and objections are raised 

1 Sir James Mackintosh. 



118 



MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 



than removed, it does not follow that the book 
fails of its leading purpose. This purpose is not 
to prove that there are no difficulties and objec- 
tions in religion, but to show what we ought to 
believe and do, and what a wise man will be dis- 
posed to believe and do, notwithstanding these 
difficulties and objections, — a point of view under 
which, as it seems to me, the argument is un- 
equalled, and in many parts absolutely irresistible. 

We have now seen in this way how much may 
be gained by logically making the most of what 
we already believe. It remains for us to consider, 
as being indeed of vastly greater importance at 
least to the_ bulk of mankind, how much may also 
be gained by practically making the most of what 
we already believe. 

Religion, I hardly need say, is not so much a mat- 
ter of speculation as of practice. Confessedly it is 
the great practical concernment of human life, and 
therefore should be judged of by analogies borrowed 
from practical affairs. Xow it may be doubted 
whether a single great practical interest or measure 
can be named, which has not its difficult and unset- 
tled questions. Take politics, for example ; who 
will pretend that he has entirely made up his mind 
on every question connected with this subject ? Yet 
uncertainty on some points hinders him not from 
acting in respect to others, or even from taking a 



AN INFIRM FAITH. 



119 



decided stand, if he conceives the interests or honor 
of his countiy, or his own duty as a citizen, require 
it. If it were a matter of knowledge merely, then 
it would be a matter of inquiry merely ; and our 
whole duty would consist in continuing to inquire. 
But it is not so. It is matter of practice ; we 
know, merely that we may put what we know 
into practice ; so that any measure or degree of 
knowledge, not reduced to practice, fails of its 
purpose and end, and is therefore in a moral view 
worse than total ignorance, because it is so much 
light sinned against by not being acted out. 
Hence in practical matters, — and again I say, 
these include religion as the greatest practical 
concernment of all, — every one must perceive 
the inconsistency of adopting the rule that we 
will do nothing until we know every thing. 

To return, then, to the sceptic in religion. 
There are few, I suppose, who carry their scepti- 
cism to the extent of believing nothing at all. 
On some subjects they have their doubts ; on 
others none. Now all I ask of such persons is 
simply this : that they would be consistent, and 
reduce to practice what they do believe ; carry 
into effect the principles respecting which they 
have really made up their minds ; or, which is the 
same thing, live up to that measure of light to 
which they have actually attained. And let it 



120 



MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 



not be thought that this, in a practical point of 
view, will turn out to be a small matter. It 
would be difficult to name a single important 
doctrine of Christianity, which alone, to be faith- 
fully aud entirely carried out, does not require 
the whole Christian character. Nay, more. We 
will suppose a man's scepticism to reach the very 
foundations of Christianity, making it necessary 
for him to fall back on natural religion, — our 
argument is still the same. Let him begin by 
reducing to practice what he does believe, be it 
little or much. If as yet he believes but little, 
let him begin by bringing his life into faithful and 
strict accordance with that little, as a condition 
of believing more. And here let me remind 3 T ou 
again, that a faithful and strict conformity to this 
little, to one or two doctrines of natural religion, 
will not turn out to be a small matter. Suppose 
a man's faith narrowed down to believing that 
there is a God who is just and good : he is bound, 
I say, for consistency's sake and for conscience , 
sake, to live as if in the presence and under the 
government of such a Being ; and if he realty does 
so, hardly a duty enjoined by Christianity will be 
left unperformed. 

Some may object to this reasoning, that I mis- 
conceive the nature of scepticism in making it to 
consist in the narrowness or brevity of a man's 



AN INFIRM FAITH. 



121 



creed. It will be said that modern scepticism 
shows itself, not so much in the small number 
of the articles which compose a man's creed, as 
in the general distrust or misgiving with which 
the whole creed and all creeds are regarded. The 
sceptic cannot make up his mind whether religion 
is a reality at all, in any sense or degree ; whether 
there is, or is not, a spiritual world, or any world 
but this. And in this state of his convictions, or 
rather of his want of conviction, he may think that 
to act as if religion were a reality would be a kind 
of untruthfulness, a seeming to believe what he 
does not believe ; or, at any rate, an inconsistency. 

But why so ? Because a man cannot make up 
his mind as to what he ought to believe, it does not 
follow that he cannot make up his mind as to what 
he ought to do. Let it be that he needs more evi- 
dence to assure him of the truth and reality of 
religion ; let it be that the evidence is only proba- 
ble evidence, — nay, that to his mind there is not 
more than one chance in twenty, or one in a hun- 
dred, that religion is true, — I still insist that both 
duty and consistency require that he should live 
as religion directs ; that is to say, on the assump- 
tion of its truth. For, in the first place, it is plain 
that in life, in conduct, he must take one side or 
the other, notwithstanding his doubts. In oj)in- 
ion, a man may be in the condition of one who 
6 



122 



MEANS OF STRENGTHENING 



neither believes nor disbelieves ; but in life, in 
conduct, he cannot be in the condition of one 
who neither obeys nor disobeys ; for not to obey 
is to disobey. As regards practice, therefore, the 
question with the sceptic resolves itself into this : 
is it wiser and better to act on the assumption that 
religion is true, and run the risk of its turning out 
to be false, or to act on the assumption of its being 
false, and run the risk of its turning out to be true ? 
When the alternative is put in this form, and as 
regards practice it is the only alternative, I cannot 
help thinking that all must be of one mind. 

From not understanding the position here taken, 
some may ask, Is not this to expect that the scep- 
tic will act without a motive ? Certainly not. His 
motive is the hope of obtaining an infinite, good, 
or the dread of incurring an infinite evil : the 
magnitude of the stake being such as to make 
up for any real or supposed deficiency of evi- 
dence ; so much so, that a bare possibility of the 
event should be sufficient to determine our con- 
duct. Hence, in the words of Bishop Butler: 
" Considering the infinite importance of religion, 
revealed as well as natural, I think it may be said 
in general, that whoever will weigh the matter 
thoroughly may see there is not near so much 
difference, as is commonly imagined, between 
what ought to be the rule of life to those per- 



AN INFIRM FAITH. 



123 



sons who are fully convinced of its truth, and 
to those who have only a serious doubting appre- 
hension that it may be true." And again. From 
these things it must follow, that doubting concern- 
ing religion " implies such a degree of evidence 
for it, as, joined with the consideration of its im- 
portance, unquestionably lays men under the obli- 
gation before mentioned, to have a dutiful regard 
to it in all their behavior." 

But this is not all. I do not count on the 
power of the sceptic to persevere in a righteous 
course on the strength of his doubts, supposing 
his doubts to continue. My argument is, that 
he should make the most of the measure of faith 
he already has, as the appointed and necessary 
condition of his having more. The habit of 
obedience, the habit of piety, the habit of prayer, 
generates a conviction of the reality of moral and 
spiritual things, which nothing else can give. 
Who has not found that, in his best moods, — 
when, for example, he is in the midst of a good 
work, or when his heart is full of generous affec- 
tions and purposes, or when he is under the influ- 
ence of good and holy men, — he finds no difficulty 
in believing what religion teaches ? We have, 
therefore, but to make our best moods our constant 
moods, and our doubts would never return. 

In this discourse I have supposed a person to 



124 STRENGTHENING AN INFIRM FAITH. 

resemble the father of the lunatic child mentioned 
in the Gospels, who " cried out, and said, with 
tears, Lord, I believe : help thou mine unbelief! " 
It is the condition of one who has faith, but yet 
is conscious at times of doubts by which his faith 
is weakened or disturbed. As a remedy for this 
defect, it is natural and right to recommend what 
is called the study of the evidences ; a study, 
however, which will be to little purpose unless 
the three inculcations insisted on above are re- 
garded. Dismiss from your minds every vestige 
of the conceit of scepticism. Do not allow your 
minds to dwell exclusively or unduly on the 
difficulties of the subject ; or be willing, at any 
rate, to consider that, if there are difficulties in 
the way of believing, there are greater ones in the 
way of not believing. Above all, begin, begin to- 
day, to live up to the measure of light and faith 
to which you have already attained. Thus will 
you be in a frame of mind which will dispose you 
to wish, at least, that the gospel may be true ; 
and, if you superadd earnest and devout prayer, 
your hearts will be open to receive the needed 
illumination from above. " Jesus answered them, 
and said, My doctrine is not mine, but his that 
sent me. If any man will do his will, he shall 
know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or 
whether I speak of myself." 

1848-1858. 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



125 



VII. 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



" Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the 
kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeth the will of my Father winch is 
in heaven." — Matt. vii. 21. 



UR Saviour speaks here of nominal Chris- 



tians, in contradistinction to real Christians. 
Enough has not been made, as it seems to me, of 
this distinction ; nay, the distinction itself has 
often been misstated and misunderstood. It is 
common to say of men who live in a Christian 
community, but are themselves indifferent to the 
subject of religion, that they are nominal Chris- 
tians. The truth is, however, that such persons 
are not Christians in any sense ; they are neither 
nominal Christians, nor real Christians ; they do 
not pretend even to the name. Nominal Chris- 
tians, properly so called, are those who feel an 
interest in the general subject of religion, and are 
sincerely and perhaps zealously devoted to the 
Christian sect, as a sect ; that is to say, they are 




126 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



Christians in contradistinction to Jews, or Pagans, 
or Mahometans. They are Christian in sect ; they 
are Christian in name ; they have a right to the 
name ; but they are not Christians in reality, 
because they do not breathe the Christian spirit. 
Nominal Christians differ from those who are not 
Christians in any sense, by being sincerely and 
perhaps ardently attached to the Christian sect 
and name. On the other hand, they differ from 
real Christians, because though sincerely and per- 
haps ardently attached to the Christian sect and 
name, they do not as individuals breathe the 
Christian spirit. They are nominal Christians, 
but they are not real Christians. 

According to this distinction, it is obvious, in 
the first place, that a man's zeal as a nominal 
Christian may sometimes operate to prevent him 
from being a real Christian. Thus when some of 
the early Christians sought by pious frauds to 
bring over the pagans to their views, many of 
them were actuated by a sincere zeal for the Chris- 
tian sect and name. So likewise after the Chris- 
tians had gotten the civil power into their own 
hands, and began to turn it against the pagans 
and heretics, many of them were unquestionably 
actuated by a sincere zeal for the Christian sect 
and name. And again in more modern times, 
when Christians have lost their reason and temper 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



127 



in the heat of theological controversj r , there can 
be no doubt that many of them at least have been 
moved to it by a sincere zeal for the Christian 
sect and name. In ways like these, a man's sin- 
cere devotedness to the Christian sect and name 
will sometimes push him into measures that will 
have the effect to estrange him more and more 
from real Christianity. A man's zeal for the 
Christian sect and name, though perfectly sincere 
and disinterested, will sometimes induce a spirit 
the very opposite to that which real Christianity 
breathes. Paradoxical as it may seem, therefore, 
it is a sincere zeal for the Christian sect and name, 
that sometimes operates to hinder him from being 
a real Christian himself. 

Secondly, the distinction here insisted on will 
also lead us to observe, that Christians in all ages 
have been always more anxious to extend the Chris- 
tian name and sect than to spread the religion itself. 
In other words, they have been more anxious to make 
nominal Christians than real Christians. Take, 
for example, the conversion of the Franks under 
Clovis, about the beginning of the sixth century. 
Clovis and his people were idolaters, but in the 
distress of the battle of Tolbiac he loudly invoked 
the God of the Christians, and appears to have 
ascribed the victory he gained on that occasion to 
the interposition of the Christians' God. While 



128 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



in this state of mind, the Catholic missionaries 
found but little difficulty in persuading him and 
his followers, to the number of three thousand, 
to submit almost immediately to the rite of bap- 
tism. This, the missionaries thought, was to 
make them Christians. But what sort of Chris- 
tians must we suppose that the sprinkling of a 
little water would make out of these fierce and 
ruthless barbarians, especially as we learn that 
their conduct and character afterwards were not 
preceptibly improved ? Many centuries after- 
wards, when the Jesuits first set in motion their 
scheme for converting South America, we know 
that they succeeded beyond all parallel, convert- 
ing the natives by thousands, and by hundreds of 
thousands. What sort of Christians, however, are 
we to give them credit for making, it being under- 
stood that the}' did not so much as attempt to cure 
them of their superstitions, but only sought to give 
these superstitions another and, in some respects, 
a worse direction, by turning them to the use of 
the Church? At one period the English govern- 
ment, moved doubtless by humane considerations, 
directed that measures should be taken for bring- 
ing the negroes on some of the West India Islands 
within the Christian pale, by the usual initiatory 
rite. But as the work still went on heavily, a law 
was passed in 1817 giving the clergyman a bounty 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



129 



of 2s. 6d. a head for eveiy negro he should baptize. 
This bribe had such effect, that one of the clergy- 
wrote home soon afterwards, that he had already- 
baptized five thousand negroes, and was making- 
arrangements for baptizing, before the close of the 
year, all the rest on the island, amounting to about 
twenty . thousand more. Now, I ask again, what 
sort of Christians we can suppose that sprinkling 
a little water would make out of these wronged 
and degraded beings, instruction and every other 
means of moral and religious edification being 
systematically withheld ? 

I am aware of the essential difficulties in the 
case. I am aware that it is in order first to con- 
vert men to nominal Christianity ; that it is in 
order first to induce them to join the Christian 
sect and adopt the Christian name, in the hope 
that, being thus brought under the influence of 
Christian doctrines and institutions, they may in 
time become real Christians. The apostles them- 
selves proceeded in this way ; and there was no 
other way in which they could proceed. What 
we object to is, that any should feel chiefly 
anxious to convert men to nominal Christianity ; 
that they should feel satisfied with converting 
men to nominal Christianity ; that they should 
think their work done, or half done, when men 
are induced to join the Christian sect and submit 
6* i 



130 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



to its outward rites, and assume the Christian 
name. Men are not real Christians because they 
are nominal Christians, because they belong to 
an}* one of the Christian sects, or because they 
are ever so sincerely devoted to the Christian 
name. Men are not real Christians because they 
are Calvinists, or Unitarians, or Baptists. They 
are not real Christians until, as individuals, they 
breathe the Christian spirit, and live a Chris- 
tian life. 

Again, we sometimes hear of Christian com- 
munities, of Christian States ; but the distinctions 
pointed out in this discourse between nominal and 
real Christians make it clear that there is no 
State, and that there never has been one, which 
can be pronounced Christian except in name. 
Christianity may be perhaps the popular worship, 
its truth and importance may be recognized by the 
laws, and provision may be made for its institutions 
by public enactments, and perhaps at the public 
charge. Still this does not prove that the State, 
considered as a whole community, is penetrated 
throughout with the Christian spirit, and deter- 
mined and governed in all things by Christian 
principles. It only proves that the State, in its 
public capacity, has joined itself to the Christian 
sect ; that it calls itself Christian ; that it is to be 
regarded as part of Christendom; that it is a 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



131 



Christian State and not a Mahometan State : in 
one word, that it is nominally Christian. Name, if 
you can, the State in any age, or in any part of the 
world, which, considered as a whole community, 
can be pronounced really Christian ! Where is the 
nation in which the laws, the customs, the institu- 
tions, — in which literature, public opinion, and 
public amusements, — are uniformly or generally 
in accordance with the spirit and precepts of the 
New Testament ? Where is the government that 
is administered by none but real Christians, and in- 
variably or generally according to Christian prin- 
ciples, and in the Christian spirit ? Where is the 
people on the face of the earth, who, as a whole 
people, love God supremely, and one another as 
themselves? Not one, not one! I suppose that 
without undue national vanity we may say of the 
moral and religious condition of our own country, 
that it will compare favorably with that of any 
other. When we look around, however, and ob- 
serve how little there is amongst us of a truly 
Christian spirit ; what vague and imperfect notions 
prevail of the Christian character, of Christian phi- 
lanthropy, and even of Christian honesty ; and be- 
hold also the jealousies and the chicanery, and the 
mean and bad passions which trouble the course 
of human affairs, and the consent in great public 
wrongs, — I fear it would be a mere compliment to 



132 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



say even of the people of this community, that they 
are as a body, that they are universally, or even 
generally, real Christians. Doubtless in every 
Christian community individuals may be found 
who are real Christians ; but, I repeat it, the '* 
community, considered as a whole community, is 
Christian only in name. History has not, as yet, 
furnished us with a single example of a truly 
Christian people, of a whole community pervaded 
and governed throughout by the spirit and law of 
Christ. 

I go further than this. I have spoken of States, 
and I would now speak of religious sects. I be- 
lieve there is no sect, and that there never has 
been one, which can be pronounced Christian ex- 
cept in name. I make no exceptions, for I believe 
in my conscience there is none. Doubtless there is 
no considerable religious sect in which individuals 
cannot be found who are real Christians ; and in 
some religious sects there may be more real Chris- 
tians than in others ; and the views held by some 
sects may be, in themselves considered, peculiarly 
favorable to the nurture of a truly Christian char- 
acter. Still, when we come to read the history of 
these sects, I fear we shall find that, without a 
solitary exception, they have been swayed, as sects, 
by a spirit oftentimes not only not Christian, but 
positively antichristian. I fear it will be found that, 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



133 



without a solitary exception, they have borrowed 
their notions of policy, as sects, from the world, 
and not from the New Testament. We may think 
that it was different formerly, but history does not 
confirm this impression. Cardinal Barberini being 
present at Rome, at the canonization of a saint 
whom he had himself personally known, and 
known to be unworthy of that honor, could not 
help whispering to a bystander, that these new 
saints put him in strange doubts and difficulties 
about the old ones. I fear it will be found, more- 
over, that those especially who take the lead in 
religious sects, and stamp the character of the 
party, are not commonly men very remarkable for 
the Christian virtues of charity, meekness, and 
heavenly mindedness. In common parlance, we 
call all these sects Christian sects ; and it is proper 
that we should, for they have a right to the name. 
As sects, they are probably sincere in their pro- 
fession of attachment to the Christian name, and 
belong therefore to the Christian denomination ; in 
other words, they are nominally Christian. They 
have a right to the name, all of them. They 
are Christians in contradistinction to atheists or 
deists, to Jews or Mahometans. They have a 
right to the name, — all of them ; but still they 
want the reality. They are not, as sects, per- 
vaded throughout, and influenced and determined 



134 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



in all their measures, by the spirit and example of 
Jesus. 

Thus have I endeavored to point out and illus- 
trate the true distinction between nominal and 
real Christianity. I have also shown that it is 
nominal Christianity only, which can be said as 
yet to prevail even in Christendom, in Christian 
States, and in Christian sects. One great revolu- 
tion has been wrought in converting men to nominal 
Christianity. Another and still more important 
revolution remains yet to be wrought, in order to 
convert them, as a body, to real Christianity. 

From this doctrine there are two practical infer- 
ences which I must entreat you to ponder well. 

In the first place, it supplies us with a full and 
perfect answer to the popular objection to Chris- 
tianity, derived from the inconsistencies and vices 
of professed Christians. They are not the incon- 
sistencies and vices of real Christians. Now it is 
manifestly absurd to make Christianity answerable 
for the conduct of those who, by the very terms of 
the proposition, have not as yet been converted 
to real Christianity. Bring me a man who is 
thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the gospel, 
and who has brought his whole life and mind into 
subjection to the law of Christ, and I admit that it 
would be perfectly fair to try the merits of the re- 
ligion by the conduct of the disciple. Point me 



NOMINAL CHRIS TIA NS. 



135 



to a community that is pervaded and governed 
throughout by the spirit and maxims of the New 
Testament, and I admit that it would be perfectly 
fair, in such a case, to try the merits of the religion 
by its actual results. But in the name of reason 
and common sense, why would you charge on 
Christianity itself the inconsistencies and vices 
which originate in a want of Christianity ? With 
what show even of plausibility can you make 
real Christianity responsible for the inconsistencies 
and vices of those who are not real Christians, but 
only nominal Christians ? 

My second inference from the doctrine of this 
discourse is still more personal and direct in its 
application. Amidst the immense number and 
variety of nominal Christians, where are we to 
look for real Christians ? And yet it is only in pro- 
portion as men become real Christians, that they 
can hope to be saved. Submitting to ordinances 
will avail us nothing ; assenting to propositions 
will avail us nothing ; being clamorous for what we 
deem the truth will avail us nothing ; giving our 
bodies to be burned will avail us nothing, — without 
the temper and life of a real Christian. How 
many thousand martyrs have poured out their 
blood like water in the name of Christ, and yet 
have not breathed his spirit, and therefore were 
none of his ! The world stands in need of another 



136 



NOMINAL CHRISTIANS. 



regeneration, deeper and more spiritual than the 
first, converting men from nominal Christianity to 
real Christianity. We want something more than 
mere profession ; we want something more than 
mere belief, however sincere ; we want something 
more than mere zeal, however disinterested and 
self-sacrificing ; we want something more than a 
mere external sobriety and virtue. We must pray 
to be imbued with the Christian spirit ; we must 
resolve to live a Christian life. " Not every one 
that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the 
kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeth the will 
of my Father wdiich is in heaven." "Many will 
say to me, in that da}~, Lord, Lord, have we not 
prophesied in thy name, and in thy name have 
cast out devils, and in thy name done many 
wonderful works ? And then will I profess unto 
them, I never knew you ; depart from me, ye that 
work iniquity." 

1830-1861. 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



137 



VIII. 

THE DAILY CROSS. 

"And he said unto them all, If any man will come after me, let him 
deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." — 
Luke ix. 23. 

TT is often mentioned, and not without reason, 
as one proof of the honesty of the first Chris- 
tians, that they did not hold out before their fol- 
» lowers the lure of an easy or self-indulgent life. 

" Then," said our Saviour, " they shall deliver 
you up to be afflicted, and shall kill you, and ye 
shall be hated of all nations for my name's sake." 
" They shall lay hands on you, and persecute you, 
delivering you up to the synagogues, and into 
prisons ; and ye shall be betrayed both by par- 
ents and brethren and kinsfolk and friends." 
" But these things have I told you, that when the 
time shall come ye may remember that I told you 
of them." 

All must admit that this was dealing fairly 
and honestly with men. At the same time, I 
am bound to say that I think it was also dealing 



138 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



wisely with them. Men of a strong, earnest, and 
resolved spirit, the only men to be relied upon in 
building up a new religion, if convinced of the 
importance of a cause, are only won to it the 
more by the difficulties and dangers which envi- 
ron it. To the interest of the duty is thus added 
the interest of the struggle. The only minds 
which are likely to be repelled are timid, distrust- 
ful, unsteady minds ; these however are not the 
strength, but the weakness of a struggling cause. 
They constitute the unsound part of the army, 
which at some critical moment of the battle starts 
a panic, or goes over to the enemy ; and by this 
treacher} 7 of weakness, if not of purpose, betrays 
all. For a forlorn hope, a hundred picked men, 
without an individual who knows what it is to 
hesitate or falter in a noble enterprise, are stronger 
by far than ten times that number if mixed with 
here and there a faint heart, sufficient to infect 
the whole with irresolution, with even so much as 
the thought of turning back. The first Christians 
were picked men. It was necessary this should be 
so ; and that they were so, we owe it, under God, 
to the whirlwind of persecution which met them 
everywhere, winnowing the chaff from the wheat ; 
and not only the chaff, but all the light and imper- 
fect kernels. 

In process of time, power passed out of the 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



139 



hands of the pagans into those of the Christians : 
and, after that, none but heretics could aspire to 
the glory of martyrdom ; and even in respect to 
them, the fires of persecution began to burn lower 
and lower. The Christian world was soon made 
to feel how much it had lost, in losing the puri- 
fying influence of suffering ; and, to supply the 
defect, they very naturally resorted to artificial 
means : partly to self-inflicted tortures, and partly 
to the fasts and penances of the Church. 

Of the self-inflicted tortures it is hardly possi- 
ble for us, at the present day, to speak as we 
should, because it is hardly possible for us to 
enter into the thoughts and feelings of the per- 
sons whom we undertake to judge. They be- 
lieved, — that is, those at least who were most 
active in introducing ascetic practices into the 
Church, believed, — that matter was wholly evil ; 
that all our natural affections and desires were 
sinful, and sinful only, and that continually ; that 
the war bet\veen the flesh and the spirit was a 
war of extermination ; that the body was not 
something to be subdued and regulated, but 
something to be spurned, mortified, killed. With 
these views their duty was plain. It would be 
well for us if we lived up to our idea of what 
makes a good man, as nearly as they did up to 
theirs. 



140 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



Of the fasts and penances of the Church I can- 
not say as much. Imposed, but not self-imposed, 
they have always been liable to be used as the 
instruments of tyranny and oppression on one 
part, and to beget nothing better than hypocrisy 
or formality on the other. Among a rude people, 
in order to tame their ferocity and turbulence, 
and bring them under subjection to a spiritual 
rule, this discipline may sometimes have an- 
swered a good purpose ; but even here I sus- 
pect that the benefit has been almost always 
overrated. It is a required, a coerced, and there- 
fore for the most part an outside penitence. It 
has no living root, like the self-tortures of the 
anchorite, in the moral aspirations of the sufferer 
himself. However this may be, it is certain that 
Church fasts and penances in these last days, ex- 
cept with the very ignorant and a few devotees, 
have sunk into a byword for their insignificance. 

These are some of the ways in which the Chris- 
tians of other times were called upon, or thought 
themselves called upon, to crucify " the flesh with 
the affections and lusts ; " but it is plain that we 
must look elsewhere for occasions to prove our 
faith and constancy. 

But the times just referred to have been, and 
have passed away. Persecution, in the sense in 
which that word used to be understood, is no 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



141 



longer to be expected in the ordinary course of 
events. Neither are any of us likely, with our 
notions of life and duty, to think it necessary or 
wise to submit to ascetic practices, whether self- 
imposed, or imposed by the Church. Still, what 
our Lord says in the text must be considered as 
applicable to all times : " If any man will come 
after me, let him deny himself, and take up his 
cross daily, and follow me." 

Never was the earnest inculcation of this pre- 
cept more needed than at the present day. Sur- 
rounded, as many Christians now are, by ease, 
security, and abundance, they are tempted not 
only to neglect the self-denying virtues, but 
almost to forget their obligations and the im- 
portant place they hold in the Christian life. 
When a cross is actually laid upon us by Provi- 
dence, when it cannot be averted, all I suppose 
will agree that it ought to be borne, and borne 
with firmness and a calm trust ; but that we are 
frequently called upon to submit to self-denial 
not from necessity but from choice, or, in other 
words, to take up our cross voluntarily, and to 
take it up daily, is not so generally conceded. 
To some it may even sound as no better than a 
futile attempt to revive the self-inflicted auster- 
ities of the cloister, which the age, as all Protes- 
tants at least will allow, has outgrown. 



142 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



What, then, is meant by that self-denial which 
is so frequently enjoined upon all men, in the 
New Testament ? Every one is required to take 
up his cross daily ; but what to crucify f 

There is the more need of some explanation 
here, because the term self-denial, if literally 
understood, might mislead. We are not to deny 
ourselves in the sense of denying our whole selves ; 
for this would be to deny what is good in us, as 
well as what is bad. What then, I ask again, are 
we to deny? 

Every one must be conscious of being under the 
influence of two orders of propensities and desires: 
the higher, or those which belong to him as a ra- 
tional and moral being ; and the lower, or those 
which belong to him as a sensual and selfish 
being. Even the lower tendencies of our nature 
are not bad in themselves ; they are bad only when 
they interfere with the proper development, or with 
the proper gratification, of the higher. » Here then 
it is, that Christian self-denial begins and ends ; we 
are to deny the solicitations of our lower nature, 
whenever they interfere with the aspirations of 
our higher nature. Christian self-denial does not 
require us to deny our nature as a whole, but only 
to be true to our nature as a whole ; that is, to 
take care that the rightful subordination amongst 
its various springs of action shall be maintained. 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



143 



Christian self-denial does not require us to deny 
our happiness; that is to say, our highest happi- 
ness ; but only to be true to that happiness, by 
repressing every appetite or passion which puts 
itself in opposition to it, or which tends to frus- 
trate or endanger it. 

Again, neither reason nor the New Testament 
makes the moral value of self-denial depend on 
the pain it costs. This pain is the measure, not so 
much of what we have done, as of what we have 
yet to do, in order to make ourselves thoroughly 
good men. It is manifestly the sign of an un- 
formed or of a half-formed Christian character, to 
find it hard to keep under the lower propensities 
of our nature, when they stand in the way of 
moral progress. If we cannot give up without 
reluctance or regret any appetite or desire, as soon 
as we see it to interfere with our highest good, so 
much the worse for us ; but we can hardly set 
down such reluctance or regret, or the pain it 
gives us, to the score of merit. Who would think 
that a man ought to be praised or rewarded for the 
pain it costs him to keep himself from lying or 
stealing ? He would feel none of this pain, if his 
nature had been properly disciplined; and the 
moral value of self-denial consists in its tendency 
to bring about this discipline : to teach every part 
of our nature to know its place, and keep its 



144 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



place, and thus to co-operate harmoniously and 
spontaneously in promoting the highest good of 
the individual. The moral value of self-denial 
does not consist in the pain it costs, but in its 
tendency to induce a habit of virtue, under the 
influence of which the practice of virtue will 
become agreeable and easy ; so as, in the end, that 
is to say in heaven, to dispense with the necessity 
of self-denial altogether. 

Self-denial, therefore, is not an end but a means ; 
the end being to convert, through the power of 
habit, a painful and constrained obedience into a 
joyful and free obedience. The highest form of 
virtue is not the virtue of self-denial, but of 
earnest and irrepressible love ; when duty has 
ceased to be a task and become a pleasure, a kind 
of necessity. Hence that sublime doctrine of the 
New Testament. " Whosoever is born of God doth 
not commit sin, for his seed remaineth in him ; 
and he cannot sin, because he is born of God." 

Not entirely satisfied with this view of the sub- 
ject, some may still ask, " What ! is there not more 
moral worth in an action requiring great self- 
denial, than in one requiring little or none ? For 
example; is not a choleric man more meritorious 
for keeping his temper, under great provocation, 
than he would be if by nature or habit mild and 
self-possessed ? Is not a man who abstains from 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



145 



intoxicating drinks, though he hankers for them, 
more meritorious than he would be if he did not 
hanker for them, if he loathed them ? " 

These questions are often put in a tone which 
would seem to imply that they must be answered 
in the affirmative ; yet such an answer will be 
found to involve consequences which nobody, I 
suppose, would care to admit. It would follow 
that, just in proportion as a man succeeds in sub- 
duing and extirpating his evil inclinations, the 
merit of his obedience must become less and less, 
until at last it entirely disappears. Thus, to recur 
to the examples just given ; were a man to suc- 
ceed in entirely overcoming a choleric temper, or a 
hankering for intoxicating drinks, — as a good man 
is very likely to do, or at any rate aims to do, — after 
that he would be gentle or temperate as a matter 
of course ; but there would be no merit in it, be- 
cause there would be no difficulty in it : it would 
be worth nothing, for it would cost nothing. Or 
take a case of a somewhat different description. 
Suppose a man to begin to attend church from a 
sense of duty, though it is extremely irksome to 
him. For a while, on the principle assumed above, 
there would be great merit in it, because it would 
call for great self-denial. But suppose the man, in 
process of time, to become deeply interested in re- 
ligion and in religious services. Of course he will 
7 j 



146 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



still continue to attend church. Now, however, 
instead of its being irksome to him, he finds the 
greatest delight in it. But if so, then, on the 
principle assumed above, there would be no merit 
in it ; attending church would be no better than a 
kind of self-indulgence. 

Obviously, therefore, it will not do to estimate 
the deserts of a Christian by the degree of self- 
denial which accompanies his conduct; certainly 
not by the degree of self-denial which now accom- 
panies his conduct. 

Most of the error or perplexity on this subject 
has probably grown out of not distinguishing 
between the judgment passed on single actions, and 
the judgment passed on the character of the agent. 
In pronouncing judgment on a single action we 
are influenced and determined, I allow, in no small 
measure, by the amount of self-denial it costs. 
We admire an act of self-sacrifice ; we cannot help 
admiring such an act, whatever we may think of 
the agent in other respects ; that is to say, what- 
ever we may think of his character generally. We 
cannot help admiring a generous or just action 
when performed in the face of great difficulty and 
great opposition ; because it was less to be ex- 
pected on this account ; because it supposes great 
effort, and this, again, great strength of purpose ; 
because it is a triumph of the human will, 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



147 



a triumph in which we can all sympathize, and 
one in which we all seem to share. Hence, I 
suppose it is, that our Saviour has said, " Like- 
wise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner 
that repenteth, more than over ninety-and-nine 
just persons which need no repentance." It is 
not meant that the new convert is an object of 
more favor or confidence, in himself considered, 
than a man of tried and confirmed virtue ; un- 
doubtedly he is not an object of as much of either. 
Still there is something in the single act by which 
the sinner breaks awaj^ from his old habits, and 
tramples under foot his evil inclinations, and turns 
unto God, — something so unexpected, so auspi- 
cious, so heroic, — that it cannot fail to excite at 
the moment in all good beings, on earth and in 
heaven, a peculiar joy and admiration, — a momen- 
tary burst of exultation. 

But the joy and admiration inspired by a single 
action, at the moment of its performance, have 
nothing to do, at any rate nothing to do definitely, 
with what will become of the agent himself at 
last, or with the sober and just estimate to be made 
of his deserts on the whole. As men we are to be 
judged, as the Scriptures say, according to our 
deeds ; but not according to our deeds taken 
singly and abstractly, and without reference to the 
influence they have on ourselves ; nor yet according 



148 



THE DAILY CROSS, 



to any real or supposed preponderance of our good 
deeds over our bad deeds, or of our bad deeds 
over our good deeds, taken abstract!}- and numeri- 
cally. We are to be judged according to our 
deeds in this sense only : we are to be judged ac- 
cording to the moral state or condition in which 
all our deeds, taken together, have left us. " God 
looketh on the heart.'* Every man is to be judged 
according to what he is in himself; according to 
what he has become, — his past actions having noth- 
ing to do with his present or his future prospects, 
except in so far as they have contributed to make 
his dispositions and character what they now are ; 
or. in other words, have contributed to make him 
what he has become. 

Hence it appears that the rule, according to 
which we pass judgment on actions taken singly 
and abstractly, is very different from that accord- 
ing to which we pass judgments on men. The 
glory of an action depends on its unexpectedness, 
on its difficulty, on the moral force or moral 
courage it displays, sometimes even on the general 
degradation of the agent ; for the glory of the sin- 
gle action may be. that one so degraded in other 
respects should suddenly raise himself to so noble 
a thought, to so high an endeavor. But, when we 
speak of the worth of a man, we always make it 
to depend on what he is in himself; that is to say, 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



149 



on the habits he has formed ; not on the amount 
of discipline which he has undergone, simply and 
abstractly considered, but on the effect this dis- 
cipline has had on his character ; on the degree of 
harmony, purity, and elevation of soul which he 
has actually gained ; in one word, to adopt the 
language in which the Scriptures express the 
change, on his having been " born again," on his 
having become 44 a new creature." We think 
better of an action in proportion to the difficulty 
and self-denial it involves ; but, when we turn from 
the action to the man, we think better of him in 
proportion as he is in a condition to do the same 
thing without any difficulty at all, without any self- 
denial at all. The best man, the perfect man, if 
we could find one, would be a person with whom, 
in ordinary circumstances, it would be as easy and 
natural to fulfil all righteousness, as to breathe. 

This distinction being understood and admitted, 
we see at once that self-denial is not the Christian 
character, nor an essential part of it, but only one 
of the instrumentalities by which the Christian 
character is formed. Self-denial does not belong 
to us as Christians ; that is to say, as perfect 
Christians : for, in the perfect Christian, duty and 
pleasure become one ; no place is therefore left for 
self-denial : it belongs to us as persons who aspire 
to be Christians, who are learning to be Christians. 



150 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



In saying this, however, I do but say that, in 
point of fact, it belongs to us all; for what can be 
truly said of the best of us, except that we are 
learning or aspiring to be Christians ? — some in 
the midst of the process, some just beginning, 
others only thinking about beginning, if indeed 
so much as that. In respect to all such persons 
without exception, the gospel teaches that it is 
only by self-denial, — that is, by crossing, restrain- 
ing, and subduing the lower tendencies of our 
nature whenever they interfere with the higher ten- 
dencies of our nature, — that each one can bring 
his character into harmony with itself, and subject 
the whole to the law of Christ. 

The fact that we have fallen upon easy and 
prosperous times, and are tempted by abundance 
and opportunity on every side, only makes this 
discipline so much the more indispensable. In a 
barren and poor country the people are abstemious 
and frugal, not from self-denial, but from neces- 
sity. And so in the case of individuals. An 
ambitious young man, starting in life with noth- 
ing to depend upon but his own exertions to make 
his way in the world, is comparatively in no danger 
from the love of ease or pleasure : if his conscience 
or his ambition do not restrain him, his Avant of 
means will. It is not until luxury abounds, and 
the means of self-indulgence are brought within 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



151 



the reach of all, that degeneracy is likely to pre- 
vail ; for it is not until then, that the vices of self- 
indulgence become possible, — I mean, generally 
so, and to a ruinous extent. This, then, would 
seem to be the law : As any people advance in 
wealth and refinement, the restraints of necessity 
are gradually taken off : after which, it is only in 
so far as their place is supplied by the restraints 
of self-denial, that the national decay and ruin 
are stayed. History tells us how it was with 
the civilizations which were founded on pagan- 
ism. They stood the trials of adversity ; but 
under the trials of prosperity they all fell. If a 
better fate awaits the civilizations founded on 
Christianity, it will be mainly owing, under God, 
to its doctrine of the cross ; to the fact that these 
civilizations are thoroughly penetrated with the 
spirit of him who has said, " If any man will 
come after me, let him deny himself, and take 
np his cross daily, and follow me." 

Not only is self-denial becoming every day more 
necessary, but also more difficult. Much is said of 
the self-denying virtues of our fathers, under the 
hardships and privations of the early settlement of 
this country, and in their struggle for independ- 
ence ; and I heartily concur in the honor in which 
they are held on this account. Still all must agree, 
that it is not as hard to bear restraints which our 



152 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



condition has. laid upon us, and which we know 
we cannot throw off if we would, as it is to bear 
restraints which we have laid upon ourselves, and 
which we know we can continue to bear, or not, as 
we please. No doubt it is hard to perform a task 
set us by an inevitable Providence ; but it is harder 
still to set the same task to ourselves, and still be 
faithful to it. In the former case, we have but 
one thought : it must be borne ; in the latter, we 
have the alternative, duty on one side, and indul- 
gence on the other. We can bear it or not as we 
please ; and it is the knowledge of this alternative, 
more even than hunger and nakedness, more even 
than prisons and scaffolds, which tries men's souls. 
We often hear it said, that the spirit of martyrdom 
is dying out. I believe no such thing. I believe 
that, if persecution for opinion's sake were to be 
revived to-day, there would be as many who would 
be burned at the stake, rather than deny the faith, 
as at any former period. The spirit of this form 
of martyrdom is latent merely because the exigency 
does not exist to call it forth. Meanwhile Ave have 
our own peculiar cross to bear, — a cross, too, which 
in one respect is harder to bear than that of per- 
secution ; for it is not laid upon us by others, but 
we are required to take it up of our own accord and 
lay it on ourselves, and bear it with unshrinking 
fortitude, with untiring constancy. 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



153 



What adds to the difficulty of self-denial at the 
present day is, that it requires not only self-control, 
but self-knowledge. Every man is called upon in 
the text to take up his cross daily ; but what to 
crucify ? I answer, His bosom sin. As was said 
before, self-denial does not consist in denying our 
whole selves, but in denying any and every pro- 
pensity of our lower nature which comes in com- 
petition with our higher nature. It is to deny the 
body, that we may be true to the soul ; it is to 
deny what is worldly in us, that we may be true 
to what is heavenly in us ; it is neither more nor 
less than a practical recognition of the sovereignty 
of reason and conscience and faith over passion 
and appetite. But the rebel which is to be denied 
and subdued in your heart is probably very dif- 
ferent from the rebel which is to be denied and 
subdued in mine. With one man it is the love 
of ease ; with another it is the love of pleasure ; 
with another it is an irascible temper ; with an- 
other it is the love of money ; with another it is 
a selfish ambition. Nay, we may have aspirations, 
which, in their proper connection and subordina- 
tion, are among the most amiable and commend- 
able, — such as a thirst for knowledge, a desire of 
honorable distinction, — but which turn traitors 
when they tempt us to be unfaithful to virtue 
and religion. Our Saviour has said, " He that 
7* 



154 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



loveth father or mother more than me, is not 
worthy of me ; and he that loveth son or daughter 
more than me, is not worthy of me." Every one 
therefore must be willing to know the cherished 
idol of his own heart, whatever it may be, though 
aware that his object in knowing it is, that he 
may deny it and put it under his feet. 

Remember also what has been already intimated 
more than once. We are not merely to deny, we 
are to subdue, our rebellious inclinations, — the 
lusts and desires that war against the soul. The 
moral worth of self-denial does not consist in the 
pain it costs, but in its tendency to curb the lower 
propensities of our nature, to restore a lost s}^m- 
metry and harmony of character, to induce the 
habit of natural, easy, and spontaneous obedience 
to the Divine will. A man may fight against his 
sins all his life long, and fight bravely, and die 
fighting ; if however he does not conquer them, it 
is plain that he will die in his sins. The battle is 
necessary ; the battle however is not for the sake 
of the battle, but for the sake of the victory. The 
life of God in the soul of man begins in struggle 
and self-denial ; but it ends in love and repose. 

What then, in conclusion, does Christianity re- 
quire of us under the name of self-denial ? Not 
s elf -mortification ; which is nothing but the folly 
of morbid consciences. Not austerities of any 



THE DAILY CROSS. 



155 



kind ; which are nothing but the despotism of a 
proud spirit playing the tyrant over its own tastes 
and inclinations. But she warns us, that our con- 
dition in this life is not constituted on the plan of 
ease and safety, but on that of difficulty and con- 
flict. She warns us that our nature, if left to 
itself, will go to destruction. She warns us that 
the first duty incumbent on every man that lives 
is the duty of ruling his own spirit, and putting 
every rebellious principle under his feet. Under 
these circumstances, what religion requires of us 
is -the firm and sure step of one who has gained 
the mastery over himself, and uses this mastery in 
the pursuit of the noblest ends by the noblest 
means. And she requires it of us all. She re- 
quires it of us as men ; above all, she requires it 
of us as Christians. She holds up before us the 
sacred symbol of our faith, and proclaims the law: 
By this you are to conquer. And, knowing our 
weakness and our need of help, she conjures us, 
she beseeches us, to bow meekly and humbly 
before the Crucified One, whom we acknowledge 
as our Example and Lord, that we may arm our- 
selves with the same mind that was in him. She 
also comforts us by repeating his words : "In this 
world ye shall have tribulation : but be of good 
cheer ; I have overcome the world." 

1851-1858. 



156 



ON KEEPING THE PBOjIISES 



IX. 

OX KEEPING THE PROMISES ^~E MAKE TO OUR- 
SELVES. 

" And Jacob vowed a vow, saying, If God will be with me, and wiU 
keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and 
raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father's house in 
peace, then shall the Lord be my God," — Genesis xxviii. 20, 21. 

* I "HIS is the first formal vow on record, though 
the practice itself appears to have existed 
from the earliest times. It had its foundation in 
human nature. In the infancy of the world men 
did not look on God as we do ; they did not regard 
him as a Spirit, or think that those who worship 
him should worship him in spirit and in truth. 
They reverenced him. it is true, as a superior 
Being: but still as having like interests and like 
passions with themselves, — susceptible to atten- 
tions and flatteiy, expecting favor for favor, and 
therefore to be propitiated by votive services and 
offerings. The Jewish lawgiver, finding this 
custom in existence, adopted it into his code, 
though, as it would seem, not so much to recom- 



WE MAKE TO OURSELVES. 



157 



mend it, as to subject it to proper regulations, and 
to prevent abuses. According to him, vows when 
made were, as a general rule, to be kept ; still he 
is careful to say, " But if thou shalt forbear to 
vow, it shall be no sin." 

In our days vows have fallen into disuse, partly, 
no doubt, from the spread of a more rational faith ; 
and partly also, I am afraid, from a less worthy 
cause, namely, a growing neglect on the part of 
many to recognize their personal relations to God 
in the affairs of life, or to appeal to the sanctions of 
religion in aid of duty. I do not mean that men 
have given up, or are likely to give up, promising 
what they will do in the future. The change con- 
sists in this: instead of making these promises, as 
they once did, to God, they now make them to one 
another; or, more frequently still, to themselves. 
Hardly an individual can be found who does not 
at times promise himself, that, in certain contin- 
gencies, he will take a certain course or do cer- 
tain things which he believes to be right. Thus 
a large portion of the most solemn promises which 
we make consists of those which we make to our- 
selves ; and my object in the present discourse will 
be to set forth our duty in respect to this class of 
promises, — the 'promises which we make to our- 
selves. 

Even the schoolboy, mortified at the poor appear- 



158 



ON KEEPING TEE PROMISES 



ance he has made after having neglected his lesson, 
promises himself that he will be more attentive in 
future, and avoid the recurrence of a like disgrace. 
An ingenuous youth, betrayed into imprudence or 
crime by his inexperience, or by bad counsels, 
promises himself that in future he will be more on 
his guard. A man of a quick and hot temper says 
or does, in a fit of unrestrained anger, what he 
afterwards sincerely regrets : he therefore promises 
himself that in future he will keep a harder curb on 
his passions. A man is led on little by little in 
play, until he finds that he has gained or lost a 
considerable sum, — in short, that he is fast becom- 
ing a gambler ; and, alarmed at the tendency of 
these things, he promises himself that no tempta- 
tion shall ever induce him again to take a card into 
his hands. A man awakes after the debauch of 
the last night, feverish and sick, ashamed and 
penitent, and promises himself that from that mo- 
ment he will break for ever from the scenes, com- 
pany, and amusements which have so often had 
power to overcome his best resolutions. A man 
begins a new study, engages in a new and difficult 
undertaking, enters upon new and important rela- 
tions in life ; and, made serious by the uncertainty 
of the future, he promises himself that nothing 
which he can do or dare shall be wanting to his 
success. A man is interrupted in a worldly and 



WE MAKE TO OURSELVES. 159 



thoughtless career by a dangerous sickness, and 
being forcibly led by his situation to review his 
past conduct, and consider his unfitness for eter- 
nity, he promises himself that, should he recover, 
he will commence a new life. 

I might go on multiplying illustrations without 
end, but enough has been said to indicate the 
number and variety of the promises which men 
are continually making to themselves. They con- 
stitute, as I have said, a large proportion of the 
best considered and most solemn promises which 
any of us make. Nobody will deny that they are 
made, for the most part, in good faith, and with 
a serious purpose of fulfilling them ; that they are 
entered into in our best moods, that they are the 
dictates of our best judgment, and that it would 
be best for us on every account to keep them. 
Yet the readiness and frequency with which they 
are broken has become a proverb. Why is this ? 

Some may think it not only accounted for, but 
justified or at least excused, on the ground that 
the promises which we make to ourselves are 
merely secret purposes or resolutions, which we 
are at liberty to change when we please. But 
I cannot agree to either part of this statement. 
Let it be that the promises in question are 
only another way of saying to ourselves what 
we propose to do in particular cases ; in other 



160 ON KEEPING THE PROMISES 



words, that they are nothing but another name 
for good resolutions. Even in this view of the 
matter, I deny that we are at liberty to change 
them when we please. No matter whether we 
regard them as promises properly so called, or 
merely as good resolutions, we have no right to for- 
get them, or set them aside, when the moment for 
action arrives. We have no right not to make the 
good resolutions ; much less, to break them after 
they have been made. 

But I do not concede what has just been as- 
sumed. A clear distinction can be drawn, as it 
seems to me, between general resolutions to do 
well, and specific promises made to ourselves that 
we will pursue a particular line of conduct. You 
know how it is in our dealings with others in 
analogous cases. If I merely say, in general 
phrase, that I mean to serve a friend, but do not 
promise 'any particular service, he cannot claim 
any particular service at my hands. If, on the con- 
trary, my expression of good wishes takes the form 
of a specific promise to do this or that, he can hold 
me to my word. And so in my intercourse with 
myself. So long as I can put myself off with good 
resolutions ; that is, with general purposes to repent 
and do well hereafter, — I may postpone fulfilling 
them day after day, and month after month, and 
year after year, and yet not feel that I have 



WE MAKE TO OURSELVES. 



161 



abandoned them. I may still hold and cherish the 
same good resolutions to repent and do well here- 
after. But if I solemnly promise myself that on a 
certain occasion, or at a certain time, I will do a 
particular thing, and fail to do it, I know and 
feel that I have broken my word. I know and feel 
that I cannot be relied on ; and, what is more and 
worse, that I cannot rely on myself. Again, a 
particular and specific promise is more even than a 
particular and specific resolution for another reason. 
In all such cases, the promise is the resolution 
begun to be carried out. I have proceeded so far as 
to give my word to that effect ; and if this is noth- 
ing, it must be because my word is nothing. 

Again, others may hastily conclude that prom- 
ises made to ourselves are not binding, because 
they are not published; because they are known 
to ourselves alone ; because there is no witness. 
But here, as before, I cannot admit either the 
fact, or the inference from the fact. What is it, 
I would begin by asking, that makes any prom- 
ise binding? Not human laws; for all human 
laws might be struck out of being, without 
making our promises any the less binding on our 
consciences. Nor yet the mere fact that by 
publishing the promise, we have raised expectations 
in others ; for a promise extorted from us by force, 
or obtained by false pretences, will have the effect 



162 ON KEEPING TEE PROMISES 



to raise expectations in others : but this will not 
make such a promise morally binding. A promise 
is binding, when in a fair and full view of the 
subject we voluntarily enter into engagements, 
by which we stand pledged to regulate our future 
conduct. Now all this holds true of the promises 
in question. For example, when a sick man 
promises that, should he recover, he will amend his 
ways ; or the conscience-stricken oppressor, that he 
will repent of his misdeeds and make reparation 
for the wrongs he has clone, — in all such cases it 
will not be denied that a promise is really made, 
and made voluntarily, and in a fair and full view 
of the subject, and with an expectation of per- 
forming it ; and that such will be our duty. But 
there is no witness ! Suppose, for a moment, 
there were none ; this might affect the means of 
proving or enforcing the promise, but not its moral 
obligation. If you were at a loss whether you had 
made the promise or not, it might be of importance 
to call in witnesses to satisfy you on that point ; 
but what need is there of witnesses to prove a fact 
which is not doubted? Besides, this supposition 
that there is no witness, is wholly gratuitous. 
There is a witness, — that Being whose eye is every- 
where, on the evil and on the good, — there is a 
witness whose presence is felt and acknowledged 
at the time of making the promise. Moreover, it 



WE MAKE TO OURSELVES. 163 



is the witness of that Eye, and not the witness of 
the many eyes of the world, which is the founda- 
tion of our responsibility in all cases, even for our 
most public acts. That Eye is upon us in all 
places, at all times. It penetrates into our most 
secret thoughts ; it is acquainted with our most 
secret promises ; it remembers them whether we 
do or not, and it will call them into judgment at 
the last day. 

There is also another ground for evading our 
duty in respect to the promises we make to our- 
selves, which is likely to occur to some minds. It 
may be said that, when a man makes a promise to 
himself, he is both parties to the contract ; not only 
promiser, but promisee ; so that should he after- 
wards conclude to break it, he can do so without 
blame on obtaining his own consent : for this, as 
in the present case it comprehends the consent of 
both parties, is authority sufficient to annul the 
most solemn compact. But, in the first place, 
whoever should reason thus forgets, — no, he 
does not forget, but he refuses or neglects to 
consider, — that when such promises are entered 
into it is distinctty understood on the part of the 
promisor's conscience, that they shall never be 
made the subject of this sort of tampering. No 
one, I suppose, will pretend that the promiser, at 
the time of making such a promise, means to leave 



164 



OX KEEPING TEE PROMISES 



himself at liberty to keep it or not as he sees fit ; 
for if so, why make the promise ? He would do 
what he sees fit when the time comes round, with- 
out the promise, just as well. 

Moreover, though the promise is made to the 
same person who makes it, it is not made to the 
same person in the same capacity. It is the self 
in both cases, but the self considered as divided 
into two, — the acting self and the judging self. 
It is the will making a promise to the conscience. 
Make the most, therefore, of this right to release 
ourselves from the obligation of such a promise, 
it is a right which belongs exclusively to the con- 
science ; for it was to the conscience that the 
promise was originally made. But who will say, 
that, when we break the promises we have made 
to ourselves, it is commonly from the calm and 
unbiassed consent of our consciences ? Who does 
not know that, in nine cases out of ten, our un- 
faithfulness to such promises is owing to the re- 
ascendancy of the very passions against which 
the promise was directed, and which it was in- 
tended to restrain, but which are again allowed 
to bear down conscience, and the promise too? 
Indeed, I might insist that in most instances the 
promise is not so much made to ourselves, as to 
God. It is, to all intents and purposes, the repro- 
duction, under a modern form, of the ancient vow. 



WE MAKE TO OURSELVES. 



165 



Even though in form we make the promise to our- 
selves, we often do it looking to God as the witness 
and guaranty of our sincerity ; which virtually in- 
volves a promise to Him, that we will be faithful to 
the promises which we make to ourselves. And He 
will hold us to such promises. 

When therefore, in a moral and religious view 
of our responsibilities, we promise ourselves to 
fulfil a particular duty, it appears to me that this 
promise is of the nature of a bond on the soul. It 
is an engagement voluntarily entered into, in a fair 
and full view of the. circumstances ; and there is 
also a witness, or rather there are witnesses, to the 
engagement, — God and our own consciences,— to 
whom we are pledged for its fulfilment, and often 
under all the solemnities of a religious vow. Habit 
or custom may make it seem a light thing to trifle 
with such engagements : but in morals it is not a 
light thing ; in the sight of God it is not a light 
thing. Neither human laws nor public opinion 
have any thing to do with the making or the 
keeping of these solemn engagements ; it is 
enough to know that they will be judged at the 
bar of eternal justice, and that any attempt to 
evade their strict fulfilment by casuistical distinc- 
tions will be regarded like the kindred one in 
social morality, — that of attempting to avoid the 
payment of an honest debt by a legal quibble. 



166 



ON KEEPING THE PROMISES 



Apart also from these clear and solemn inculca- 
tions of conscience and religion, I might appeal to 
every man's self-respect, as a motive to fulfil the 
promises he makes to himself. Is it not an hum- 
bling and mortifying thought, that we cannot de- 
pend on our own word for our own good? As 
for the promises of others, we expect they will 
often fail us. We expect to be often deceived, 
cheated, betrayed by other people: but 'has it 
come to this, that we cannot rely on ourselves ? 
If we could believe that our infidelity to the 
promises we are now considering grew out of a 
real change of opinion as to the wisdom of them, 
it would be different. But it is not so. When 
the drunkard returns to his cups, or the gamester 
to his haunts, after having solemnly abjured them 
in his own thought, do you suppose, does any- 
body suppose, does he even suppose himself, that 
it is because he has altered his mind as to the 
ruinous tendency of such conduct ? 2Co ! it is 
mere weakness and irresolution : the bondage of. 
evil habit. With his eyes open to the folly of 
his course, and perfectly aware of the promises he 
is violating, he returns to practices which he still, 
in his better judgment, condemns and abhors as 
much as ever. Who, I ask again, is willing that 
this should be said of him. that it should be a faith- 
ful picture of his own life, even though we were 



WE MAKE TO OURSELVES. 167 



to, leave out of view duty and religion, and look 
only to self-respect ? Yet it is a faithful picture 
of every one's life, who cannot rely on the promises 
he makes to himself. 

Shall we then abstain from making such prom- 
ises, lest we should incur the guilt and shame of 
violating them ? There are many, I know, who 
contend against all making of promises respecting 
the future, on the plea that we ought to do what 
we think to be right at the time, taking care to 
leave ourselves as much untrammelled on moral 
questions as possible. But this reasoning pro- 
ceeds on the mistaken notion, that our greatest 
danger is either that we shall not know what is 
right, or that we shall not do it from the highest 
motive. On the contrary, our greatest danger in 
point of fact is, that, though we know what is 
right, we shall fail to do it from any motive ; 
being turned aside by passion, or some supposed 
present interest, or mere indifference or apathy. 
Hence it follows that what we most need is, to 
fortify beforehand our general purpose to do well, 
especially in respect to those dangers and tempta- 
tions which we have found to have the greatest 
power over us. 

Behold, then, the occasion and use of the open 
pledge and the secret promise ! They do not dis- 
place a sense of duty, and the fear of God ; but 



168 ON KEEPING THE PROMISES 



they reenforce these motives, and often give them 
the victory. Having pledged ourselves before- 
hand to our own souls that we will take and 
pursue a certain course, when the moment of 
trial arrives we shall feel, in addition to all the 
other motives, the motive growing out of having 
solemnly entered into such an engagement. Frail 
and uncertain as this dependence is, it is some- 
thing ; and it is not for beings, weak and tempted 
as we are, to reject or to slight any auxiliary to 
virtue. Nay, nothing truly great and excellent 
can be attained in any profession or calling, unless 
a man prescribes to himself a particular line of 
conduct, and adheres to it with constancy. Yet 
this is to promise himself what he will do ; and 
having done so, if he has not truthfulness and 
stability enough to keep the promise, he is born 
to inferiority as certainly and irrevocably as if 
it were stamped on his forehead. 

Besides, in our present circumstances we can- 
not refrain altogether from making promises to 
ourselves, even if we try. When we look abroad 
on the works of God, and behold them everywhere 
marked with the traces of Divine benignity, how 
is it possible for us not to promise ourselves to 
lead a life of grateful obedience to the Giver of 
all good ? When we open the Scriptures and 
read there the story of the merits and sacrifices 



WE MAKE TO OURSELVES. 



169 



of the sinless One, and dwell on his example of 
unearthly purity and peace, and are touched by 
his redeeming spirit, how is it possible that we 
should not promise ourselves to become his dis- 
ciples, — if not to-day, at least at some future 
time ? When we turn our eyes inward on our 
own hearts, and see there the ruins of many, 
many broken resolutions, and the dark and deep 
stains which passion and frivolity, and the world, 
and the beginnings of many crimes have left on 
our undying souls, how is it possible that we 
should not promise ourselves, in our intervals of 
serious reflection, that we will turn from evil to 
good ? It is but the spontaneous and, I had 
almost said, irrepressible effort of an awakened 
mind to put itself into an attitude to begin obedi- 
ence to the dictates of reason and conscience, and 
the requisitions of a just and holy God. The worst 
men need not make themselves worse than they 
are ; even they have their intervals of serious 
reflection. Amidst all its seeming thoughtless- 
ness, amidst all its real degradation, the human 
heart still yearns for better things, aspires to 
better things, promises itself better things. We 
cannot help these promises, if we would ; we 
ought not to try to suppress them, if we could : 
but we should concentrate our whole moral 
strength on the purpose to keep them. 
8 



170 



ON KEEPING THE PROMISES 



Religion itself is not more exacting of us than 
we often are of ourselves. "W ere we to listen 
now to all the good resolutions we have at any 
time formed, all the clear, distinct, and solemn 
promises we have made to ourselves, we should 
find that nothing is required of us in the gospel, 
except to keep our own word. This wonderful 
consent and harmony between the Bible and the 
aspirations of the human soul in its best moods 
is, perhaps, to most minds the strongest, or at 
least the most convincing, evidence of the heavenly 
origin of both. There is nothing in the warnings 
and counsels of God which sounds strange or un- 
familiar to our better nature, to the inner man. 
" For that which I do*, I allow not : for what I 
would, that do I not ; but what I hate, that do I. 
If then I do that which I would not, I consent 
unto the law that it is good." There is nothing 
which the teachings of Christ, or the example of 
holy and devout men, or the exhortations of loving 
friends call upon us to do or become, which many 
of us have not promised ourselves to do and be- 
come a hundred times. Where is our consistency, 
where is our self-respect, where is our reverence 
for truth, or our fear of God, that we should 
promise and not perform ? May that grace, which 
alone is sufficient for us, turn our hearts anew to 
these promises, and help us to fulfil them ! May 



WE MAKE TO OURSELVES. 171 

that mercy which never faileth have pity and for- 
give, whenever we come short of it, from weak- 
ness and frailty, or the sudden and unforeseen 
stress of temptation ! And, in the judgment of 
the last day, may we all find pardon and accept- 
ance, not for our promises alone, but for our 
honest and unremitting endeavor to fulfil them 
in life and in death ! 

1846-1858. 



172 



JESUS CHRIST MADE 



X. 

JESUS CHRIST MADE PERFECT THROUGH SUFFER- 
INGS. 

"For it became him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, 
in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the captain of their salva- 
tion perfect through sufferings." — Hebrews ii. 10. 

' | ^HERE is so much sadness and mystery mingled 
in human life, that one is often tempted to 
think it well with those with whom it is well over. 
If innocence were a shield, if all the suffering in 
the world could be clearly seen to be retributive 
or corrective, the suffering would remain the same, 
it is true ; but it would not be so difficult to account 
for its being permitted under the divine administra- 
tion. How can we account for the fact, that Jesus 
Christ, the purest and most exalted of the children 
of God, " the holy one," should live a life of sor- 
row, and die at last prematurely to all human appre- 
hension, and amidst torture and ignominy? 

The declaration in the text will help us to re- 
solve this difficulty in the providence of the All- 



PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERINGS. 173 



Wise and the All-Good. Jesus suffered, it appears, 
that he might be made perfect. 

Because a man suffers, it does not follow 
necessarily that his sufferings are to be regarded as 
a retribution for his sins, or as a means of correct- 
ing his sins, or that they are inflicted in con- 
sequence of his sins, or even that they imply in 
any way that he is, or has been, a sinner. He may 
be a good man already, one of the best of men, 
" unspotted from the world ; " and yet he may suf- 
fer, not that he may be made good, but that he may 
be made better, that he may be made perfect. 

So it was preeminently with Jesus Christ, 
whose sufferings had nothing to do with sin, but 
they led to higher degrees of moral and spiritual 
excellence and glory. Every trial he underwent 
had this design and tendency, to make him perfect ; 
perfect in himself ; perfect in his office as Mediator ; 
perfect as an example to his folloivers. " For it 
became Him, for whom are all things, and by whom 
are all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to 
make the captain of their salvation perfect through 
sufferings." 

The sufferings of Jesus Christ were necessary, 
in the first place, to make him perfect in himself. 

Affliction, it has often been said, is like fire ; 
what it does not melt, it hardens. If trials and 
disappointments do not make a man visibly better, 



171 



JESUS CHRIST MADE 



they are apt to make him visibly worse, by making 
him reckless, or by inducing a misanthropic temper, 
or perhaps a gloomy fatalism. As a general rule, 
however, it will not be denied that adversity makes 
men more thoughtful and considerate, and gives 
them juster views of human life, and quickens their 
sense of dependence on a higher Power. Some 
qualities especially, which yet are essential to a 
perfect character, — such, for example, as patient 
endurance, a submissive spirit, and magnanimous 
self-devotion, — are only to be acquired and exer- 
cised under the discipline of that stern and rigid 
nurse of human virtue. 

And, in reasoning on this subject, we must not 
suppose that these means were less necessary to 
our Saviour than to others, for the full development 
of his mind and soul. Whatever views may be 
entertained of his relationship to the Divinity, all 
Christians agree that he had a human character ; 
and this character was formed like that of his 
followers, gradually, by adding excellence to ex- 
cellence, as circumstances or the occasion drew it 
forth. That our Lord differed from all others in 
being " without sin " from the beginning is ad- 
mitted; but to confound mere sinlessness with 
absolute perfection, to suppose he was perfect 
from the beginning in the same sense in which he 
actually became so afterwards, would be to con- 



PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERINGS. 175 



tradict the express teachings of the Evangelists, 
who represent his piety and virtue as a gradual 
acquisition. " The child," they say, " grew and 
ivaxed strong in spirit, rilled with wisdom ; and the 
grace of God was upon him." And again, 44 Jesus 
increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with 
God and man." So much then is certain. If the 
Bible is to be believed, his character was formed 
gradually, like that of any other person ; and de- 
pended, as we must presume, in the same sense, 
though not perhaps in the same degree, on dis- 
cipline, and cultivation, and external influences. 
At any rate, his character appeared as occasion 
called it forth. Hence it follows, that if the dis- 
cipline of adversity is necessary, as we have seen, 
to the perfect unfolding of the spiritual nature of 
" such as are saved," it was equally so to the per- 
fect unfolding of the spiritual nature of him who 
is every where set forward as 44 the captain of their 
salvation." 

In reading the accounts which the sacred writers 
give us of the life of our Lord, I think we can 
perceive the effect which his sufferings had on his 
character in making him more and more an object 
of veneration and holy trust. His first public acts 
were sometimes marked with a sternness and 
severity, and he sometimes expresses himself with 
an indignation, which we do not find amidst that 



176 



JESUS CHRIST MADE 



subdued and serene submission and benignity 
which throw such a melancholy interest and 
grandeur around the closing scenes of his earthly 
labors and trials. Compare his conduct at the 
opening of his public ministry, when with a 
scourge of small cords he drove out the money 
changers and other traffickers who had intruded 
themselves into the precincts of the temple ; and 
the manner when, at least in one instance, he 
turned round "in anger" to rebuke the obduracy 
of his countrymen ; and also the woe upon woe 
which through a whole chapter he thundered on 
their vices and their hypocrisy, — compare, I say, 
his conduct in these instances with his conduct af- 
terwards ; with the tears he shed over the devoted 
city ; with his last and most affecting interview 
with his disciples; with the manner in which he 
received the kiss of Judas, though he knew it was 
to betray him, and in which he bore himself at his 
trial, amidst the insults and mockery of his judges 
and the soldiery; above all, with his praj^er on the 
cross, " Father, forgive them, for they know not 
what they do." By studying the character of 
Jesus Christ under this single point of view, we 
shall see, I think, that it underwent a gradual 
change, and became more tender, more unearthly, 
more godlike under the afflictions he endured. 
Many qualities in his character which command 



PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERINGS. 177 



our highest admiration, our deepest reverence, 
would have had no opportunity for exertion or 
manifestation, perhaps would not have existed, 
but for the sufferings which called them forth. 

Besides, the constancy and moral sublimity, 
which our Lord could only have evinced under the 
severest trials, supply us with one of the strongest 
internal evidences of his miraculous character and 
the divinity of his mission. I am aware that the 
cross of Christ, notwithstanding the more than 
human magnanimity with which it was borne, 
created many doubts and difficulties even in the 
honest minds amongst his contemporaries ; for they 
reasoned that, if he had really been the Son of 
God, God would not have given him over to such 
humiliation. But it was because they had asso- 
ciated with the expected Messiah the vulgar no- 
tions of greatness, and could not conceive of one 
as great who was not surrounded with the usual 
circumstances of greatness ; the pomp and blazonry 
of earthly power and renown. With us, however, 
it is different. We know that the only true great- 
ness is greatness of soul; and that the circum- 
stances, whatever they may be, which have the 
effect to display the highest degree of this great- 
ness, are those which vindicate a man's claim to 
real superiorit} 7 . Let history tell of her hero who 
in the day of his triumph bestrode the world like 

8* L 



178 



JESUS CHRIST MADE 



a colossus, and was worshipped as a god ; but 
when a reverse came on his fortunes, and he was 
hurled from the eminence he had occupied, where 
then was his glory, or the qualities by which it had 
been won? If Jesus Christ had merely been a 
successful adventurer, or a mighty conqueror, — 
another Solomon, or another Judas Maccabeus ; 
another Alexander or Caesar, — his ascendancy 
might easily be accounted for by natural causes. 
But when we look on him as an obscure Galilean, 
educated in all the prejudices of his country, un- 
sustained by any of the excitements or illusions 
which do so much to bolster up the vulgar great ; 
betrayed and forsaken by the few he had counted 
on as friends ; left alone, absolutely alone, to watch 
the gathering of that black and portentous cloud 
which was soon to break in thunder on his naked 
head ; and yet with a soul unshaken, unappalled, 
— well, indeed, may we exclaim with the Roman 
centurion, who witnessed his last sufferings, 
" Truly this was the Son of God ! " Jesus Christ 
might have been great, as other men have been 
great, and it would have proved nothing ; but the 
circumstances of extreme trial in which he was 
placed afforded him an opportunity for displaying 
a greatness to which there is no parallel ; a great- 
ness not more remarkable for its degree than for 
its entire originality. Every mind capable of 



PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERINGS. 179 



profound thought will appreciate this argument for 
Christianity ; because the entire originality of our 
Saviour's character makes it as much a miracle 
that the Evangelists, with all their prejudices, 
should have drawn it from the imagination, as that 
the character itself should have really existed for 
them to describe. 

Again, the sufferings of Jesus were necessary in 
his character of Mediator, to be as a ground of mu- 
tual sympathy between him and his followers. 

One of the principal reasons which make the 
idea of a Mediator so grateful to the human heart 
is, that with our frail and imperfect natures we 
can feel no proper sympathy with the mysterious 
and awful Power, the Infinite One, we wish to 
propitiate. Hence the deep and inextinguishable 
longing of humble and devout minds for some one 
of a like nature, between whom and us there can 
be something like a fellow-feeling, on whom our 
religious affections m&y repose, and who will inter- 
cede for us before the throne of that incompre- 
hensible Being, to us unapproachable even in 
thought. The great purpose and benefit of a 
Mediator would be compromised and lost, if he 
were not a Mediator who could be touched, and 
who had been really touched, by a sense of our 
infirmities. Wherefore, to borrow the words of 
the apostle, "In all things it behoved him to be 



180 



JESUS CHRIST MADE 



made like unto his brethren, so that as he him- 
self hath suffered, being tempted, he is able to 
succor them that are tempted." 

It is also this mutual sympathy, a sympathy 
growing out of a consciousness of common trials 
and sufferings, which gives to the example of our 
Lord almost all its applicability to human con- 
duct. If he had been made in the nature of 
angels, if " in all things " he had not been made 
like unto his brethren, to be tried as they are tried, 
and to suffer as they suffer, we might be told what 
he did, but it would not follow that it was possible 
for us to do the same, or even that it was proper 
for us to aspire to do the same. If Jesus Christ 
were a superior being, he might be an example 
to superior beings like himself, but he would not 
be an example to men. The very idea of an ex- 
ample supposes not only that we ought to imitate 
it, but that we can imitate it ; and, of course, that 
we possess in general the same powers and capaci- 
ties witli the person by whom it is set. If Jesus 
Christ were a superior being above all human 
sympathy, his very virtues would no more be an 
example to us in any proper seuse of that word, 
than the flight of an eagle or the strength of an 
elephant is an example to us. The whole force 
and pertinency of the example of Jesus consists 
in supposing, that he was a sharer with us in the 



PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERINGS. 181 



same dangers and sorrows, that lie was tried as 
we are tried, that he suffered as we suffer, that 
he triumphed as we might triumph. Unless we 
begin by assuming this, his virtues, much as we 
may admire them, are no more an example to us 
than his miracles. 

Add to this, that the sufferings of Jesus have 
given a peculiar cast to his religion, and fitted it 
permanently to become a religion of consolation. 
Go to the various religions of paganism, if you 
want a religion to fill and captivate the imagiua- 
tion with the fictions of a beautiful mythology. 
Go to the religion of Mohammed, if you want a 
religion merely to stir the blood of warriors and 
voluptuaries. Go to the religion of a Socrates or 
a Seneca, if you merely want a religion for sages 
and philosophers, in which to bewilder themselves 
in subtle and endless speculation. But if you 
want a religion to assuage human woe, and wipe 
away the starting tear, and light up even the 
darkness of the tomb with a light from heaven, 
go to that which was dispensed by one who was 
himself a man of sorrows and acquainted with 
grief. 

It is to this circumstance, I suppose, that we 
owe that vein of tender melancholy running 
through all his discourses, and his propensity 
to dwell on those topics which are most grateful 



182 



JESUS CHRIST MADE 



to a bruised spirit, and also the fondness with 
which those who have neglected his religion in 
prosperity often turn to it, and cling to it, in the 
dark hour of peril or bereavement. Again, we 
submit more readily to be advised and consoled 
by one who has felt the same or a similar dis- 
tress, because we know that he can enter fully 
into all our feelings, and will make allowance 
for the infirmities of which he has been painfully 
conscious in his own person ; and because he has 
a peculiar right to insist on a submission and con- 
stancy which he has himself so signall} T displayed. 
It is to the suffering Jesus much more than to the 
triumphant Jesus, to his cross much more than to 
his crown, that the bowed spirit of an afflicted race 
turns with hope and trust. 

What, then, is the practical use of these 
observations ? 

They teach us, in the first place, that we 
ought never to question or doubt the justice or 
benignity of the Supreme Disposer in permitting 
the sufferings which Jesus endured. These suffer- 
ings, we have seen, were necessary to carry out 
the great purposes of his mission ; and of course 
the same wisdom and mercy which prompted the 
mission sanctioned also the means by which alone 
it could be made effectual. On the part of our 
Saviour himself, too, the same pure and expan- 



PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERINGS. 183 



sive benevolence, which led him to assume his high 
and responsible office, made him willing also meekly 
to acquiesce in the sacrifices it required. 

Let us rather learn, from the sufferings of Jesus, 
the meekness and constancy with which the chas- 
tisements of God are to be borne by all. We 
greatly err, if we imagine that our Lord's pain and 
misery were in any sense less real or less exquisite 
than the pain and misery of others, or that he had 
supports other than those which are open to us, — 
an approving mind, and reliance on the Divinity. 
The same angel which was sent to strengthen him 
is sent to strengthen us, if we ask for it aright. 
Having therefore the same consolations and sup- 
ports, let it be our constant endeavor to bear the 
ills and sorrows of life with the same composure 
and dignity, and the same entire acquiescence in 
the will of the Supreme. After considering the 
sufferings of Jesus, we certainly cannot think it 
a strange thing that we also should be afflicted ; 
rather let us remember that, if we suffer with 
Jesus, we shall also reign with him. And is it 
too much to expect from the afflicted, even while 
vthe hand of God is heavy upon them, to feel that 
the sufferings of this life are not worthy to be 
compared with the glory to be revealed in those 
who continue faithful to the end ? 

Let us then reflect often on the sufferings of 



184 CHRIST PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERINGS. 

Jesus, and ponder them well ; and especially when 
in the presence, as now, of the symbols intended 
to commemorate these sufferings, and the undying 
love with which they were borne, and of which 
they tell. We should do so that it may increase 
our faith, and fill us with gratitude towards him 
who is the resurrection and the life. Above all, 
we should do it that we may catch something of 
that spirit of constancy and self-devotion, which 
could say, " Father, not as I will, but as thou 
wilt ; " " Father, into thy hands I commend my 
spirit." " For consider him that endured such 
contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye 
be wearied and faint in your minds. Have ye 
forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto 
you as unto children, My son, despise not thou 
the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou 
art rebuked of him ; for whom the Lord loveth he 
chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he 
receiveth." 

1828-1860. 



EE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



185 



XI. 

HE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 

"For he knew what was in man." — John ii. 25. 

r I ^HERE are two kinds of knowledge which are 
often confounded together : a knowledge of 
the world, and a knowledge of human nature ; a 
knowledge of men as they are, and a knowledge 
of men as they might be ; a knowledge of what 
man has put forth, and a knowledge of what is in 
man, to be put forth if he would. 

Knowledge of the world, or of men as they are, 
supposes one to be conversant with affairs, with 
the shifts and turns of fortune, and with the 
various humors of men. It can hardly be ac- 
quired in much perfection except by large and 
frequent commerce with society, by mixing with 
all sorts of people in all sorts of wa} r s. This kind 
of knowledge, if possessed in an eminent degree, 
fits one to get on in the world. It makes what is 
called a good business man, and is more essen- 
tial, perhaps, than any other quality to success in 



186 



EE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



public life. It is also important to some forms 
of literary success. A writer or speaker, to be 
immediately and generally popular, must be 
thoroughly imbued with the prevailing opinions 
and sentiments, and not much in advance of 
them ; — a little in advance of them, perhaps, 
that he may be looked up to as an authority ; 
but not much in advance of them, lest he should 
lose the public sympathy, or fail to be understood. 
Even the popular statesman differs from others 
chiefly in this, that he can see what the multi- 
tude are going to think and do a little sooner 
than they can themselves ; and thus is often in a 
condition to take ground a little in advance of 
the public opinion of to-day, in the assurance 
that it will be sustained by the public opinion 
of to-morrow. 

But this knowledge of the world, or of men as 
they are, however important and necessary, is 
often found to exist in great perfection in per- 
sons who have but little knowledge of human 
nature properly so called ; that is to say, of what 
is in man, to be put forth if he would, — of what 
is latent in man. And, as they have but little 
knowledge of it, they commonly have but little 
faith in it. 

Jesus Christ, " in whom were hid all the treas- 
ures of wisdom and knowledge," " knew all men, 



EE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



187 



and needed not that any should testify of man, 
for he knew what was in man." He knew at the 
same time what was in the world, and what was 
in human nature ; man as he was, and man as he 
might be. 

His knowledge of the world, of the ways of 
men, of men as they are, appeared in all his 
intercourse with the men of his day, — penetrating 
at a glance the half-formed purpose or thought 
of friend or foe. Though surrounded from the 
beginning by powerful and subtle enemies who 
were continually plotting his destruction, he was 
never, in a single instance, taken by surprise. 
Even when he went up to Jerusalem for the last 
time, he knew what awaited him there ; he went 
up because his time had come. And this knowl- 
edge was necessary. In much of his conduct, and 
to a certain extent even in his mode of teaching, 
and in his teaching itself, it was necessary that he 
should understand and adapt himself to the ways 
of the world around him, to the habits and preju- 
dices of the people with whom he had to deal. 

But a more difficult and more profound knowl- 
edge than this was also required to fit him to 
become the Great Teacher ; a teacher not of the 
Jews alone, but of all mankind ; not of one age 
only, but all ages. To fulfil his high mission as 
the Divine Word to man, it was necessary that he 



188 



EE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



should know what is in man, and all that is in 
man, though much of it had never before found 
adequate utterance ; nay, had never before been 
revealed to the consciousness of any living being. 
He knew what was in man ; as well what had not 
been put forth, as what had been put forth. He 
addressed himself not merely to the men he saw 
around him, to the actual man, but also to the 
possible man. He knew the immeasurable capaci- 
ties and resources which were latent in man. And 
this it was which qualified him to legislate for all 
nations and all ages. Hence also it is, that, so 
long as man continues to be man, his religion will 
continue to meet the wants and be adapted to 
the condition of man. It will never become obso- 
lete ; it will never grow old : it will be " the same 
yesterday, to-day, and for ever." 

That our Lord " knew what was in man " ap- 
pears, first, in the doctrines which he taught ; and, 
secondly, in the means by which he would have 
them established and propagated in the world. 

In the first place, look at the doctrines which 
he taught. And here I speak, as my text actually 
leads me to do, of the doctrines which he taught 
respecting man. The doctrines respecting man, 
which may be said to be in some sense original 
with Christ and peculiar to him, are these three : 
First, that duty in man consists not in an outward 



EE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



189 



conformity to prescribed rules, but in an inward 
and strict fidelity to great principles. Secondly, 
that true greatness in man consists not in wealth 
or station, nor even in intellectual gifts, but in 
public service and in dignity and elevation of soul. 
And lastly, that the secret of the highest form of 
influence over man is found, not by acting on his 
self-love or his fears, but by overcoming evil with 
good. 

No doubt the narrow and worldly-minded Jews, 
when they first listened to inculcations like these, 
were tempted to regard them as the extravagances 
of a young and inexperienced reformer who did 
not know what he was about. But it was by fall- 
ing into the error mentioned above ; it was by mis- 
taking a knowledge of what is in the world for a 
knowledge of what is in human nature. The 
great prophet of the new dispensation was able to 
see through, at a glance, the sevenfold disguises of 
worldly prejudice and worldly habit. Underneath 
all this he saw what was in man ; he saw there the 
elements of a new obedience, the elements of a 
higher form of moral, social, and spiritual life, 
which the ancient civilizations, whether Jewish or 
pagan, had not awakened or recognized, but which 
it was his mission to appeal to and call forth. 

Take, for example, the first of the doctrines 
above mentioned ; namely, that duty consists not in 



190 



HE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



an outward conformity to prescribed rules, but in 
faithfulness to great principles. We question not 
the wisdom or the necessity of governing the child- 
hood of the world, as children are governed now, 
by outward rules arbitrarily imposed and blindly 
followed. And no evil is likely to ensue in such 
cases ; for the same authority that imposes the 
rule can modify it, from time to time, to suit the 
exigency ; and the modification will be accepted 
with the same trustful and blind acquiescence as 
the rule itself. But as society advances, and the 
human mind is unfolded more and more, man grad- 
ually passes from this state of pupilage, making it 
necessary that he should be governed in another 
manner. He is now able to understand not only 
the rule, but the reason or principle of the rule ; 
and hence becomes responsible not merely for his 
obedience to this or that received rule, but' also in 
some sense for the soundness of the rule itself, or 
at least for its right application in particular in- 
stances. In one word, he is no longer under a 
schoolmaster as in the primitive times, but under 
Christ, who has said, " Henceforth I call you not 
servants, for the servant knoweth not what his 
lord doeth ; but I have called you friends, for all 
things that I have heard of my Father I have made 
known to you." 

Compare the decalogue, which constitutes the 



HE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 191 



basis of the morality of the Old Testament, with 
the beatitudes which constitute the basis of the 
morality of the New ; and you will readily under- 
stand what I mean by the distinction between a 
morality of dead rules and a morality of living 
principles. " Blessed are the merciful ; " " blessed 
are the peace-makers ; " " blessed are the pure in 
heart." Here no unbending formula is prescribed. 
We are not commanded to do this or that particular 
thing, — to force through, for instance, a particular 
measure without regard to circumstances or con- 
sequences ; but the disposition, the inward prin- 
ciple, is indicated from which we- are always to act ; 
the wa} T , the means, being left to be determined by 
an enlightened Christian conscience in view of all 
the circumstances and foreseen consequences of the 
act. It is a law, but it is a " law of liberty." We 
are not treated as slaves, nor yet as children, but 
as the Lord's freemen. The spirit, the reason, the 
principle of the law is given, and it is left for us 
to consider, under the light of the gospel, and 
under a solemn sense of our responsibility to God, 
in what way this principle can best be carried into 
effect in the condition in which we are placed. 
And the excellency of this wisdom consists herein : 
as the reason of the law is better understood, as 
the principle of the law unfolds itself in the in- 
dividual and in society more and more, its form 



192 EE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



rises to meet it, becomes clothed with a higher sig- 
nificance ; and thus, as I have said before, never 
becomes obsolete, but renews itself, and reaffirms 
itself at every step of human progress. 

The same is also true of the second Christian - 
doctrine, above mentioned ; namely, that greatness 
consists not in wealth or station, nor yet in in- 
tellectual superiority, but in public service, and in 
dignity and elevation of soul. We must expect 
that a man will be called great in any community 
according as he excels in those particular qualities 
which are held there in the highest account. 
Hence, among savages the great man is a man of 
gigantic strength and stature ; among a warlike peo- 
ple the great warrior is the great man ; in propor- 
tion as the civic virtues come to be appreciated and 
honored, the great statesman begins to be looked 
up to as a great man ; if intellect is the standard, 
the great thinker ; if usefulness and integrity, — 
the public benefactor, the moral hero. Thus we 
see that, as civilization advances, human greatness 
is determined by a continually ascending scale ; 
and what I wish to impress upon you here is, that 
Christianity began by taking this scale at the 
highest. 

Thus, when a strife arose among the Twelve 
which of them should be accounted greatest, Jesus 
said : " The kings of the gentiles exercise lordship 



HE EXEW WHAT WAS IN MAX. 



193 



over them, and they that exercise authority upon 
them are called benefactors. Let it not be so 
with you ; but he that is greatest among you, let 
him be as the younger, and he that is chief as he that 
doth serve." He who spoke thus must have known 
not only what mankind had become, but what they 
were capable of becoming ; and also by what means 
they were to be led on. He knew that the first 
thing to be done was to hold up before them the 
idea of true greatness. The idea, the conception, 
must go before the reality. For a while the light 
shone in darkness, and the darkness comprehended 
it not. But the darkness never entirely extin- 
guished the Christian idea of true greatness. 
Nothing is more remarkable of what are called 
by way of distinction the Dark Ages, than the in- 
consistency, the contradiction, between what the 
Christians of that time really ivere and what in 
moments of high spiritual exaltation they aspired 
to be ; in one word, between the moral practice and 
the moral thought in that benighted period of the 
Christian world. By means of the Scriptures, sa- 
cred hymns, and the symbols of the Church, the 
idea of what God required still lived. Over the 
confusion and license and ferocity which prevailed, 
there still hovered a conception of the true Chris- 
tian life, to command the respect and win the love of 
all, and slowly and silently to draw all men unto it. 

9 M 



194 EE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAX. 



Again, the third and last of the above-mentioned 
Christian doctrines — namely, that the secret of the 
highest form of influence over man is found, not in 
interest or fear, but in self-devotion and love, in 
overcoming evil with good — is equally in accordance 
with a profound knowledge of what is in man. In 
taking this stand we do not shut our eyes on the 
many weaknesses, follies, and extravagances which 
have been and still are recommended and practised 
under fanatical notions of devotion and self-sacri- 
fice. Nevertheless we must not abandon an 
important and sound principle from disgusts oc- 
casioned by tne misunderstandings or exaggera- 
tions to which it has sometimes led, or by the 
ill-repute into which the principle itself has some- 
times fallen in consequence. It is still true that 
love has more power over man, to induce real and 
lasting change, than either hope or fear. I have 
no doubt that Christianity has done much good 
through its distinct and authoritative annunciation 
of a future life ; but it is a mistake to suppose that 
this is the sole, or the chief, secret of its influence. 
Its peculiar and distinctive excellence and power 
do not grow out of its beino* a new revelation of 
God's omnipotence, nor yet of his justice, but of 
his love. Its doctrine is, " God is love ; and he 
that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God 
in him." " Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed 



EE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 195 



him ; if he thirst, give him drink : for in so doing 
thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not 
overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." 

Strange that the professed followers of Jesus 
should be so slow to find out what is so clearly 
laid down as being at the bottom of all genuine 
Christian influence. But they are beginning to 
find it out at last, and to reap the fruit of the dis- 
covery, in the wonderful success attending those 
attempts to reclaim the erring and lift up the 
fallen, where men trust wholly to the accents of 
human sympathy, speaking in the name of him 
who loved us and gave himself for us. Moral 
miracles might still be wrought, if men would only 
have faith in that ever open and ever flowing 
source of Divine power. 44 For I am persuaded, 
that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor prin- 
cipalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor 
things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
other creature, shall be able to separate us from 
the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our 
Lord." 

Finally, that our Lord 4 4 knew what was in man " 
appears not only in his doctrines, but also in the 
means by which he would have them established 
and propagated in the world. 

The history of Christianity, read by one who 
mistakes a knowledge of the world for a knowledge 



196 HE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



of human nature, presents an inexplicable enigma. 
Go back to the day of the crucifixion ; follow the 
feeble and fainting steps of the Victim as he passes 
through the streets of Jerusalem on his way to 
Calvary ; witness the scene of torture and igno- 
miny which followed. Is this the King that was 
promised ? Is this his coronation ? All experience, 
all histor} r , all our affections answer, " It is." To 
a suffering and not to a triumphant Christ the 
thoughts of a tempted, perplexed, and sorrowing 
race instinctively turn. It is the memory of that 
love which Avas stronger than death, mingled with 
the consciousness that the sacrifice had become 
necessary to our reconciliation with God, that has 
enthroned the Crucified One for ever in the heart 
of man. What is there in mere worldly greatness 
to be followed by results like these ? What care 
we at this day for Herod the Great, or Alexander 
the Great? It is one of the eternal laws of nat- 
ure, that every thing which is personal and selfish 
perishes ; that only which contributes to the spread 
of light, and the progress of truth and virtue, 
endures. 

There are three ways in which a religion can be 
established and propagated ; — by force, by author- 
ity, or by individual conviction and heart-felt love. 
The first two are ever likely to recommend them- 
selves to those who mistake a knowledge of the 



HE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 197 



world for a knowledge of human nature, because 
the outward success attending them is more 
immediate and more apparent. Thus we see 
Mohammed and his successors, the scimitar in one 
hand and the Koran in the other, with the stern 
and brief argument, "Believe or die!" But is 
this the way to win souls ? Again, after the great 
Christian apostas}^, the Church opposed and exalted 
itself above all that is called God, or that is wor- 
shipped ; and began to claim for human authority 
what is only due to the Divine. Men were called 
upon to consent to be blindly led. Was this the 
way to bring about an inward and moral change ? 
The only righteousness which the gospel accepts, 
or knows, is the righteousness that is by faith, the 
righteousness that has its root in personal convic- 
tion, the righteousness that proceeds, not from a 
blind and slavish assent to what is said to be 
true, but from a knowledge, acceptance, and love 
of what is felt to be true. 

Thus it is that real Christianity has spread. 
Hence also, I may add, the explanation, at least 
in part, of a difficulty which troubles many minds. 
I mean the fact that the progress of real Chris- 
tianity has been so slow, and that so much still 
remains to be done before its triumph is complete. 
Christianity is not a mere development of human 
nature ; it is a divine element communicated to 



198 EE KNEW WEAT WAS IN MAN. 



that nature, by which the nature itself is to be 
renewed and transfigured. It is not the nature 
itself, but is intended to act on it ; still its action 
must be in accordance with the laws of that nat- 
ure, and also in proportion as the nature itself is 
developed in obedience to those laws. The divine 
seed is planted ; the result is to be not a mechani- 
cal displacing of the parts, but a living growth ; 
and growth requires time. Therefore it is that 
God waits ; therefore it is that the Saviour waits; 
and we also must labor and wait, until the tree 
takes deep root, until it sends out its boughs unto 
the sea, and its branches unto the river, and fills 
the whole earth. 

We have now seen how entirely and profoundly 
the gospel is adjusted to human nature, both in , 
its moral teachings and in the manner of its action 
and success. Two general remarks must sum up 
what we have to add by way of application. 

In the first place, we find in the doctrine of this 
discourse a striking confirmation of the divine 
origin of Christianity. We have shown that its 
Founder understood human nature better than 
any philosopher of antiquity, and knew how to 
mould this nature to his purposes better than any 
lawgiver or statesman of antiquity. The question 
is therefore forced upon us : " Whence hath this 
man all this wisdom ? " It is idle to talk about 



HE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



199 



training and discipline ; for lie had neither : and, 
besides, any instruction he might have received 
in this way would only have had the effect to 
give his mind a more decidedly Jewish or Ori- 
ental bent, and so have been fatal to that breadth 
and universality of view on which, as I have said, 
his chief distinction and glory depend. Neither 
is it to any purpose to say, that we have no meas- 
ures by which to determine beforehand what un- 
assisted genius can do. I grant this, but with one 
important and necessary qualification. We must 
confine the remark to what property pertains to 
genius; to poetry for example, to some of the 
forms of eloquence, or at most to native sagacity; 
but this makes it inapplicable in the present case. 
For we find here what we are accustomed to ex- 
pect only as the result, not of genius, but of pro- 
found study, and wide and various observation. 
True, we have no means of ascertaining precisely 
how far the unassisted forces of the human mind 
might enable an individual to go in any direction. 
For example ; if the attention of a savage were 
accidentally turned to the stiuty of the heavens, 
we cannot tell precisely how far he would be 
competent to master the rudiments of astronomy. 
But one thing is certain ; he never would be able 
to produce such a work as the " Principia " of 
Newton. Yet even this would feebly represent the 



200 HE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 



marvel to be explained, when we are told that a 
Galilean peasant not only undertook to legislate 
for the conduct of all ages and countries, but suc- 
ceeded so well as to leave not a single error to be 
corrected, and not a single defect to be supplied. 

Finally, if Christianity is so nicely adjusted to 
human nature as has been shown, it follows that 
whoever puts himself in contradiction to it, puts 
himself in contradiction to his own nature. You 
blame the drunkard, not only because he has vio- 
lated the laws of his country and the laws of God, 
but because he has violated the laws of his own 
physical nature. Now we all have a moral and 
spiritual nature to consult and provide for as 
well, dependent also on our observing its eter- 
nal and unalterable laws ; which laws it is the 
mission of the gospel, as we have seen, to incul- 
cate and enforce. If this be so, then whoever 
disowns or neglects the gospel, disowns and neg- 
lects his own proper nature ; refuses to accept 
that peace of soul to which he might aspire, by re- 
fusing to submit to the conditions on which alone 
that peace can be built. All that the gospel re- 
quires of us is, that we should be true to our own 
nature ; but in order to be so we must accept those 
principles which alone are able to reach, arouse, 
and call forth the inmost elements of that nature, 
— elements, however, which are essential to the 



HE KNEW WHAT WAS IN MAN. 201 

highest form of the soul's life. The perfect Chris- 
tian is neither more nor less than the perfect man. 
Hence the language of Divine Wisdom is ever the 
same : u Whoso findeth me findeth life, and shall 
obtain favor of the Lord. But he that sinneth 
against me wrongeth his own soul : all that hate 
me love death." 

1850-1856. 



9* 



202 SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



XII. 

SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 

" But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God; 
for they are foolishness unto him : neither can he know them, because 
they are spiritually discerned." — 1 Corinthians ii. 14. 

T3 Y what means and faculties can man become 
acquainted with the realities of the spiritual 
life and the spiritual world, and know them, and 
be affected by them, as realities ? We learn from 
the text that " the natural man receiveth not the 
things of the Spirit of God ; for the} 7 are foolish- 
ness unto him : neither can he know them, because 
they are spiritually discerned." But what is this 
spiritual discernment? Why is "the natural man" 
incapable of it ? What are the changes he must 
undergo, in order to become capable of it ? 

These are the questions which I now propose to 
take up, and, if possible, to resolve ; and this, too, 
on the basis of a general doctrine, which is at once 
rational, and Scriptural, and eminently practical. 

The general doctrine to which I refer is, that 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 203 



every kind of knowledge supposes a mind pre- 
pared to receive it, and this preparation of mind 
may be regarded as the appropriate and indispen- 
sable condition of such knowledge. 

Let me illustrate what I mean, at considerable 
length, beginning with the simplest and most 
elementary kind of knowledge, that which we 
obtain by means of the senses, — external percep- 
tion. As all knowledge begins here, it might be 
presumed that it requires no preparation ; in other 
words, that what one man can see, all can see, 
that what one man can hear, all can hear. But 
it is far otherwise. A large proportion of what 
we know by external perception, we know by 
what is called acquired perception ; so much so, 
that, if a man were now created with all his 
senses in their entire physical development, they 
would be at first of but little or no service to 
him as knowing faculties. He would still have 
to learn how to see, how to hear, and even how 
to feel, in order to distinguish and know ; and his 
capacity to distinguish and know in this way 
would be in proportion as his senses were edu- 
cated up to it. How much more a blind man can 
distinguish and know by hearing alone than other 
men ! How much more an artist can see in a 
picture or landscape than the unpractised and 
unskilful eye ! It is not that the senses them- 



204 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



selves are different, or more perfectly developed ; 
but because the mind, through changes which it 
has itself undergone, is able to recognize, in what 
is manifested to the senses, a new significance. 

So likewise in respect to that form of knowledge 
which goes under the name of common sense, as if 
it were common to all men, and the same in all. 
But here, too, in point of fact, it is far otherwise. 
Common sense, in the usual acceptation of that 
term, comprehends two elements : first, the primi- 
tive judgments of the human mind, for which, as 
the name denotes, the mind can have no other 
evidence except that which it finds in itself ; and, 
secondly, such generally received deductions from 
experience as have taken the form of maxims, and 
in this form are adopted and transmitted without 
question as the common heritage. Now even in 
respect to the primitive judgments, considered as 
actual knowledge, we cannot say that they are 
either common to all, or the same in all ; for we 
must make a distinction between principles of 
knowledge and a knowledge of these principles. 
Because there are truths which the mind knows 
at once, when it is sufficiently developed to know 
them at all, it does not follow that every mind is 
sufficiently developed (for example, in infancy or 
in extreme barbarism) to know them at all. And 
this is still more obvious as regards the other ele- 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



205 



ment of common sense, the maxims deduced from 
experience. Evidently there was a time when 
these maxims were in process of formation, and 
when of course they had not as yet been incor- 
porated into the common sense of any people. 
Hence we are not surprised to find that the com- 
mon sense of savages is a very different thing 
from the common sense of civilized men ; and, 
furthermore, that it is essentially modified by the 
hind of civilization which prevails. For example, 
the common sense of the Chinese is not the same 
with that of the English or the French. 

This, then, is our conclusion even in respect to 
the earliest and simplest steps in human intelli- 
gence : they all depend on a previous preparation 
of mind ; this previous preparation of mind being 
an indispensable condition of the knowledge, — 
wanting which, the knowledge fails. 

The general doctrine gains in clearness and im- 
pressiveness when applied to the more advanced 
and complicated efforts of science and the arts. 
In the infancy of society, in the early stages of 
human progress, the steps were short and simple, 
consisting for the most part of a single thought 
turned to some single and special purpose; these, 
therefore, might have been suggested to one, 
almost as well as to another, if placed in like 
favorable circumstances. But it is far otherwise 



206 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



now. At the present day we may discover or 
invent things over again ; but, to take a step 
really in advance, we must begin by mastering 
what has been done before by the best minds in 
the same field of inquiry : and this, too, not 
merely that we may be in a condition to solve 
the new problem, but that we may be in a con- 
dition even so much as to accost it, or compre- 
hend it. I know how common it is to refer some 
of the most important discoveries and inventions 
even in modern times to casual events, to a hint 
dropped unawares, to a transient glimpse vouch- 
safed the favored aspirant ; as if the whole de- 
pended on accident, or at best on a kind of 
inspiration, which as it happens to one might 
happen to all. But no such thing. It was not 
the swinging of a lamp in the cathedral of Pisa, 
nor the falling of an apple in the garden at 
Woolsthorpe, but the fact that the first was 
observed by a Galileo, and the second by a 
Newton, which has made them so fruitful of 
consequences in the history of science. The 
hint is nothing, except to those who are in a con- 
dition to take it and unfold it. Accident may 
do a little towards determining the time when, 
and the place where of a great discovery, but 
the discovery itself must come from the mind of 
the discoverer ; that is to say, from the fact that 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



207 



his mind has been previously educated up to a 
level with the problem to be solved. 

Thus far I have spoken of acts of the pure 
intellect ; but the illustrations of the doctrine 
most in point are drawn from those acts of the 
intellect which are blended with feeling ; as in 
matters of taste and conscience. Here a twofold 
preparation is necessar}^ a preparation of the head 
and the heart : we must know in order to feel, and 
we must feel in order to know ; which requires that 
we should be in a condition to do both. 

Take, for example, aesthetic sentiment, or what 
is sometimes called taste, meaning thereby the 
faculty to know and appreciate what is sublime 
or beautiful in Nature and art. I do not deny 
that the germs of this faculty are innate, or that, 
in various proportions, they are common to all 
men, making part of what constitutes the essen- 
tial distinction between the human and the animal 
mind even in its undeveloped state. Still it is only 
in proportion as the faculty itself is developed in 
the human mind, either by growth, or experience, 
or culture, that it can be expected to manifest 
itself in the life of the individual. An undevel- 
oped faculty is not a faculty in use, but only in 
prospect, the possibility of a faculty : it does not 
speak of what a man can do as he is, but only 
of what he might be made capable of doing. 



203 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



Hence there is no inconsistency in saving that 
man may have so little of his proper humanity 
developed* as to be almost as incapable of ap- 
preciating the works of Raphael or Mendelssohn 
as the inferior animals. Like them, as regards 
what is sublime or beautiful in such works, see- 
ing he would see. but not perceive : and hearing 
he would hear, but not understand. 

And here it is to no* purpose to object, that the 
simpler forms of beauty, a simple air in music, for 
instance, is understood by one as well as by an- 
other. For, in the first place, this is true in 
respect to those communities only which are 
more or less advanced in civilization : and be- 
sides, even where it is true, the doctrine resolves 
itself, after all, into a question of degrees merely. 
It shows, what indeed might have been taken for 
granted, that less culture is necessary in order to 
understand and enjoy simple forms of beauty 
than such as are complicated and refined ; and, 
furthermore, that this degree of culture needs not 
be above that which is common or universal in a 
particular community. But because this degree 
of culture happens to be common or universal in 
a particular community, it does not follow that it 
ceases to be culture : so that the objection falls 
to the ground. It is still just as true as it was 
before, that some degree of culture is indispen- 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



209 



sable to the knowledge and appreciation of what 
is beautiful in nature or art. 

The same is also true of conscience or the moral 
sense. There can be no doubt that man is con- 
stituted a moral being : that is to say, his moral 
judgments and feelings are not a factitious or ac- 
cidental creation, the work of government, or ed- 
ucation, or self-interest. Though stimulated and 
unfolded by influences from without, it is always 
in accordance with an innate and internal law — 
a law of his own nature. This law may be said 
to be "written in his heart;" so that, failing all 
other law, he would become " a law unto himself." 
But this law takes effect in the case of this or that 
individual in so far only as his moral nature, which 
determines it, is developed ; and his moral nature, 
like his physical or intellectual nature, is developed 
gradually, step by step. Thus is laid a foundation 
for the possibility and the necessity of moral pro- 
gress in individuals, and in whole communities. 
It is not merely or mainly that men should become 
more conscientious, meaning thereby more observant 
of what conscience dictates ; but conscience itself 
must become more tender, more enlightened, more 
discriminating : it must dictate a higher and purer 
morality. We are wont to speak of our Puritan 
ancestors as eminently conscientious ; and so they 
were. With all their errors in doctrine, and all 

N 



210 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



their faults in manner and temper, they were 
probably more strictly conscientious — that is, lived 
more strictly according to their convictions of duty 
— than any other people who can be named. Nev- 
ertheless they could countenance not only slavery 
as an existing institution, which is done by many 
good men now, but the slave trade ; nay, some of 
the best of them scrupled not to engage, directly 
or indirectly, in that nefarious traffic. And the 
reason is obvious. They did not and they could 
not see such conduct in the moral light in which 
we see it ; partly because this particular subject 
had not as yet been cleared up, as it has been 
since, by discussion ; and partly because their gen- 
eral conception of human rights was less just and 
comprehensive then than that which prevails at 
the present day : to which must be added what 
has been gained to public sentiment from the 
humanizing influence of a progressive Christian 
civilization. 

Let me not be misunderstood. I neither say nor 
mean, that the notion of right in itself, of right as 
such, differs in different places, at different times, 
with different men. Men do not differ as to the 
regard which is due to right, as right. All men — • 
that is, all men whose moral nature has begun to 
be developed ever so imperfectly — agree in this, 
that they ought to do what is right. But they 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



211 



differ on the question what is right ; a question 
the solution of which does not depend, like the 
preceding, merely on their having a moral nature, 
but on the manner and degree of its development. 
Moreover this doctrine affords no color of pretence 
for doubting the reality of moral distinctions ; that 
is to say, for insinuating that there is no such thing 
as right independently of our opinion of right. 
You might just as well maintain that there is no 
such thing as truth, because men, though they 
agree in their notion of truth itself, differ on the 
question, what is true. The doctrine, as here laid 
down, merely supposes that our moral, as well 
as our intellectual, faculties are capable of being 
enlightened, improved, and enlarged. In other 
words, because man, in a high state of moral 
progress, sees at once, and, as he is apt to think, 
intuitively, a particular action or class of actions 
to be right or wrong, it does not follow that he 
could have done the same at the beginning or 
lower state of his moral progress. I say could, and 
not would ; for it is not enough to say of a man 
who has made but little moral progress, that he 
does not see difficult and refined moral distinctions : 
he cannot see them ; that is, he cannot, until his 
moral nature is educated up to a level with the 
moral question proposed ; or, in other words, until 
the eye, as well as the object, is given to him. 



212 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



One word more in this connection. Theorists 
are fond of seeking the ultimate test of morals; 
and some have thought to find it in intuitions of 
reason, others in instinctive feelings, others in ex- 
pediency, and others in the will of God. But 
make the ultimate test of morals what you will, it 
does not alter the fact as to the immediate or proxi- 
mate test, which is the conscience of the individual ; 
and this, again, is not an absolute or even a fixed 
standard, but varies with the moral progress of the 
individual from day to day ; nay, is neither more 
nor less than the measure and expression of this 
progress for the time being. 

I have been purposely slow in my approaches to 
the proper doctrine of this discourse ; namely, the 
incompetency of unspiritual men to apprehend and 
appreciate spiritual truth. My reason for taking 
this course has been, that in respect to the high in- 
culcations of the gospel the office of the preacher, 
as I understand it, is not so much to prove the truth 
of these inculcations, for their truth is supposed to 
be conceded, at least by Christians, to whom alone 
they are addressed ; but rather to prepare and dis- 
pose his hearers to receive the truths in question 
in their full significance, by showing how they are 
to be reconciled and coordinated with all other 
truths ; by showing, in short, how entirely they 
fall in with the whole of human experience. We 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



213 



have seen it to be a universal law of human 
intelligence, that it should be gradual, successive, 
step by step. No matter whether it be a question 
of common sense or the highest science ; no matter 
whether it be a question of expediency, or of taste, 
or of morals, — we are not in a condition to pro- 
nounce upon it, until our minds by growth, or experi- 
ence, or training are raised to a level with it. And 
in the case of taste and morals, where knowledge 
takes the form of sentiment, where we must love 
in order to know, as well as know in order to 
love, — in all such cases, including of course piety, 
religion, the preparation required is not merely a 
preparation of the intellect, but also a preparation 
of heart and life. This is the general, the univer- 
sal law ; and the text does but inculcate a single, 
though the highest, application of this law when it 
tells us, that " the natural man receiveth not the 
things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolish- 
ness unto him; neither can he know them, be- 
cause they are spiritually discerned." 

To return, then, to the questions proposed at 
the opening of this discourse ; if asked, in the 
first place, what constitutes spiritual discernment ; 
what gives the power of spiritual discernment? 
— I answer, in one word, — spiritual experience. 
Spiritual experience supposes, of course, the ex- 
citement and activity of the spiritual faculties, 



214 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



more or less of spiritual culture or growth, some 
degree of spiritual progress ; and our actual capacity 
of knowledge, or of living faith, in spiritual things 
depends on the degree of this progress. " Oh taste 
and see that the Lord is good ! " exclaimed the 
Hebrew psalmist three thousand years ago ; for it 
was as well understood then by heavenly minded 
men as it is now, that we cannot apprehend spir- 
itual truth through the experience of others, but 
only through our own. And again, " Jesus an- 
swered them and said, My doctrine is not mine, but 
his that sent me. If any man will do his will, he 
shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or 
whether I speak of myself." This and a multitude 
more of our Saviour's precepts clearly teach, that 
what is called spiritual insight depends much less 
on intellectual gifts, or intellectual culture, or 
learning of any kind, than on the state of the 
affections and our whole moral being. The same 
views were also inculcated and insisted on by his 
immediate followers. Thus, in the chapter from 
which the text is taken, we are expressly told that 
" the deep things of God " are revealed through 
his Spirit. " For w T hat man knoweth the things of a 
man, save the spirit of a man which is in him ? 
Even so the things of God knoweth no man, but 
the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the 
spirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God ; 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 215 



that we might know the things that are freely 
given to us of God." The apostle's meaning here 
would seem to be, that it is only through the agency 
of what is divine in our own regenerated nature that 
we are put into communication with the Divinity, 
and made capable of apprehending divine things. 
In other words, properly to know God, we must be 
in sympathy with him ; we must have a portion at 
least of his Spirit. Accordingly we are exhorted 
to follow "holiness, without which," as it is ex- 
pressly said, " no man shall see the Lord ; " nay, 
the Scriptures call upon us, in so many words, 
to become "partakers of his holiness," clearly im- 
plying that sympathy and participation in divine 
things must precede a proper knowledge, that is to 
say a living sense, of divine things. 

If then we are asked, in the second place, why 
" the natural man " is incapable of such knowl- 
edge ; why he is incapable of spiritual discernment, 
properly so called ? — the answer, again, is plain. 
It is because he has not put himself into a real, 
that is to say a living, communication with spirit- 
ual things. He is incapable of this knowledge, 
because he has not as yet put himself into a real 
and living communication ivith the objects of this 
knowledge. By " the natural man," in this con- 
nection, we understand the opposite to the spirit- 
ual man. The natural man is the unspiritual man. 



216 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



It is not necessary that lie should be addicted to 
atrocious crimes, or sunk in sensuality, or destitute 
of refinement, or intelligence, or worldly pru- 
dence ; it is enough if he is unspiritual. He is, in 
the strictest sense of that word, a ivorldly man ; 
one who looks not beyond or above the present 
world for his motives, encouragements, and con- 
solations ; one in whom the spiritual elements of 
his nature are not as yet awakened ; and one, 
therefore, who neither feels nor recognizes his 
spiritual capacities, or his spiritual relations. This 
is "the natural man"; and, after what has been 
said, it is obvious that his incapacity of spiritual 
discernment results from his not being in a con- 
dition to know the things of the Spirit in the only 
way in which they can be known, — by actual 
experience, by personal consciousness. There is 
no miracle, no mystery here. It is what happens 
every day in analogous cases not immediately con- 
nected with religion, where men show themselves 
incapable of understanding parts of their own nat- 
ure as developed in others, if thej r have not also 
been developed in themselves. Thus the man of 
facts cannot understand the man of imagination, 
nor the man of imagination the man of facts ; the 
miser cannot understand the philanthropist, nor 
the philanthropist the miser. Each is a puzzle, an 
extravagance, a foolishness to the other \ merely 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



217 



because their natures, though the same in essence, 
are so differently developed that they cannot reason 
from consciousness to consciousness. 

If then matters of taste and conscience cannot 
be understood or appreciated by men, except in 
proportion as their taste and conscience are un- 
folded, why wonder that the same law holds in 
the kindred subject of religion ? Why wonder 
that religious or spiritual truths cannot be under- 
stood or appreciated as such, except in proportion 
as men's spiritual faculties are unfolded, meaning 
by spiritual faculties a spiritual consciousness ; 
that is, a state of mind which makes men alive 
and awake to spiritual things, and puts what is 
divine in their own nature into communication 
with its Divine Source. And this is what I 
understand to be the apostle's teaching in the 
text. "The natural man" — that is, one in whom 
all sense of the spiritual and divine still slumbers 
— "receiveth not the' things of the Spirit of God, 
for they are foolishness unto him ; " that is, they 
appear so to a mind which is the result of such 
experiences ; " neither can he know them, because 
they are spiritually discerned," — showing that the 
waking up of his own spiritual faculties is a neces- 
sary prerequisite. 

Thus are we brought to the third and last ques- 
tion : What changes must the natural man undergo 
10 



218 SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



in order to become capable of spiritual discernment? 
And to answer it aright we must guard against two 
opposite extremes, — the extreme of supposing that 
nothing depends on ourselves, and the extreme of 
supposing that every thing depends on ourselves. 
Our faculties are our own, and it depends on our- 
selves whether we use or abuse them, and also 
whether we cultivate or neglect them, for self- 
culture is eminently a personal act. But it does 
not depend on ourselves under what influences, 
from around and from above, all this takes place, 
— influences which in point of fact have so much 
to do in shaping our characters as well as our 
fortunes. It does not depend on ourselves under 
what religion we are born, or under what instruc- 
tions or institutions we are brought up, or, to a 
certain extent, into what connections or com- 
panionships we are thrown. For this reason the 
wise and good man, after his greatest moral tri- 
umphs, will alwa}^s be ready to exclaim : " Not 
unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to thy name 
give glory for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake." 
Nevertheless it would seem that for us every thing 
has been done but man's part. u The day-spring 
from on high hath visited us," the Holy Spirit is 
promised to every one who will open his heart to 
welcome the heavenly Visitant ; nothing more is 
required, even of the unregenerate, but to submit 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



219 



to the means, and co-operate in the work, of the 
great salvation. 

The change in " the natural man," to which 
these means and this work look, and in which 
they are fulfilled, is the unfolding of his higher 
and better nature. The unspiritual man must 
become spiritual ; he must bring out into activity 
and consciousness latent qualities of mind and 
heart ; and then he will be in a condition to under- 
stand and feel the reality and the infinite worth of 
what strikes him perhaps as foolishness now. Nor 
has he any reason to despair of being able to do 
this. It is not as if the germs of the new life 
were not in him ; they are in him, and only re- 
quire to be unfolded and put forth. A humble 
sense of dependence and of his spiritual needs, 
the yearning of the soul after a better state of 
things, the prayer of faith, the various means 
which God has appointed, and the continual aids 
of his Holy Spirit will ensure the object. The 
change might be begun, and often is begun, in 
lisping infancy, through the power of a wise 
Christian nurture ; it might be, and it sometimes 
is, carried on towards perfection in every step 
of advancing youth and manhood, through a life 
devoted from the beginning to the highest princi- 
ples and the noblest objects. Oh, if from the 
cradle to the grave half as much pains were 



220 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 



taken, or half as many appliances used, to bring 
out what is spiritual and divine in man as to. 
bring out those qualities which pertain to worldly 
success, another day would dawn on this earth ! 

And his spiritual convictions and sensibilities 
will keep pace with his spiritual growth. To 
depend wholly or mainly on books, on nice and 
ingenious argumentation, on hearsay or authority, 
to clear up our doubts and difficulties in regard to 
the invisible things of God, is like seeking the liv- 
ing among the dead. A single earnest and hearty 
prayer, the actual putting forth of the spiritual life 
in deeds of benevolence and mercy, the living con- 
sciousness that we have become " partakers of the 
Divine nature," will do more to fill the soul with 
light and confidence, than years of unsanctified 
stucty. What is most wanted in order to still our 
doubts or dispel our perplexities in religion is, 
not that we may be convinced by argument of 
its reasonableness and abstract probability, but 
that we may be made to feel and know its re- 
ality from personal consciousness. I repeat it ; 
the natural, the unspiritual man must become 
spiritual. His first satisfactory vision of heavenly 
things will be reflected back upon the depths of 
his own spiritual nature, excited, developed, re- 
generated by the power of the Christian faith. 
The Christian's doubts and difficulties on the 



SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 221 

subject of religion never trouble him when he 
is in his highest spiritual moods. And this is 
what our Saviour meant when he said in the 
passage which has been cited once before, 44 If 
any man will do his will, he will know of the 
doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I 
speak of myself." He will have " the witness 
in himself." 44 There is," says one of the wisest 
and best of the old English divines, 44 there is a 
knowing of the truth as it is in Jesus, as it is in 
a Christ-like nature, as it is in that sweet, mild, 
humble, and loving spirit of Jesus, which spreads 
itself like a morning sun upon the souls of good 
men, full of light and life." 

1854-1858. 



222 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



XIII. 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



" Carried about with every wind of doctrine." — Ephesians iv. 14. 



UR free political institutions, the general dif- 



fusion of knowledge, and the facilities, par- 
ticularly through the newspaper press, for acting 
on whole communities at once, have had the effect 
gradually to introduce among us a new instrument 
of influence and reform ; or, at any rate, to clothe 
an old one with new power and activity. This 
instrument, I hardly need say, is Public Opinion. 

In what I am going to say on this subject, let 
me not be understood to deny that public opinion, 
in its place and degree, is a legitimate principle 
and rule of human conduct. It is natural and 
fit that we should desire to stand well with our 
fellow-men. From our condition in society, and 
from the very constitution of our minds, it was 
obviously intended that we should be affected 
and determined, more or less, by praise and 
blame. Nor is this all. Public opinion, on all 




PUBLIC OPINION. 



223 



simple questions resting on a direct appeal to 
common sense and the moral sentiments, is gen- 
erally right ; at any rate, it is more likely to be 
so than the private opinion of interested parties. 
Look back on the history of human progress : 
almost every important step has been taken, not 
because the few advised it, but because the many 
demanded it. The history of reform in most 
countries is little else than the history of a series 
of concessions to public opinion. And so in other 
countries, even in the most despotic ; for though 
in absolute governments there are no legal checks 
on the abuse of power, there is still the check of 
public opinion ; to wit, a fear lest the people may 
be goaded into some desperate act. Then, too, 
the despot, at least if he lives within the pale of 
Christian civilization, cannot be wholly indifferent 
to the public opinion of other nations ; he cannot 
help being restrained, more or less, by an un- 
willingness to incur the world's execration or 
contempt. 

Some may object that conscience, enlightened 
by revelation, is the sole rule in the last appeal, 
and that to ask ourselves what the world will 
think, or say, is treason to this rule. But why 
so ? With ordinary men, and in the ordinary 
course of things, what we call the individual 
conscience is little else than a reflection of the 



224 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



public conscience ; that is to say, of the pnblic 
opinion of right. In such cases, therefore, the 
appeal to the public opinion of right is not 
necessarily an appeal from conscience to some 
other standard : to that of expediency for ex- 
ample. It may be, and often is, an appeal from 
the uninstructed conscience of the individual to 
what is believed to be the better instructed con- 
science of the community ; the public sense of 
right. Exigencies sometimes arise, as I shall 
have occasion presently to show, when each one 
should follow his own conscience without regard 
to public opinion ; but, in the ordinary course of 
things, I cannot help thinking public opinion to 
be a safer rule than that conceit of private judg- 
ment, that extravagance of individualism, which 
it is now so much the fashion to recommend. 
Still, even here, you will observe, I do not sup- 
pose a man to defer to public opinion any further 
than his own conscience dictates ; so that, after 
all, he does but follow his own conscience in 
following the consciences of other men. 

Thus much in favor of public opinion as a rule 
of conduct : it is still more important as a motive 
and sanction. When a man is tempted to commit 
a fraud, or to be guilty of any meanness or cruelty 
or excess, his own conscience protests against it ; 
and this alone ought to restrain him : often, how- 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



225 



ever, we know it does not. Happily, in most cases 
public opinion protests as well ; and the same per- 
son who is not restrained by his own sense of the 
wrong, or by a fear of self-condemnation, is re- 
strained by a fear of disgrace, or of public con- 
demnation. In other words, he does not stand 
so much in awe of his own conscience as he 
does of the consciences of other men. After 
all, however, the motive from which he acts is 
often at least of the nature of a moral motive : 
he is afraid of moral disapprobation ; he stands 
in awe of the collective conscience of the com- 
munity, which he looks up to as sanctioning and 
reenforcing his own conscience. For let me im- 
press it upon you, that, when any one is restrained 
from wrong-doing by the public opinion of right 
as such, he is still restrained by conscience ; that 
is, the public conscience : " Conscience, I say, not 
thine own, but of the other." 

How little the best of us are in a condition to 
spare the restraints of public opinion, as a safe- 
guard to morals and decency, appears from the 
effect it almost always has on the principles and 
habits even of good men, if they move into a 
neighborhood where a lower standard of public 
opinion prevails ; or where, as in the case of new 
and border settlements, no effective public opinion 
has as yet been organized ; or where the individual 
10* o 



226 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



from any cause has reason to think himself un- 
known or unobserved. I speak not now of a 
few exceptional cases, of here and there one who 
seems born to influence others without being in- 
fluenced by them in return. I speak of mankind 
as they arise, including what are called the better 
classes : I say of men in general, that in every 
tolerably constituted society they help to hold each 
other up. I am aware how apt public opinion is to 
be perverted or warped on single points. For ex- 
ample ; in almost every community there are certain 
antiquated and widespread abuses, which the pub- 
lic opinion of that community, from prejudice or 
superstition or interest, is still disposed to uphold 
or connive at. Nevertheless, even there, on the 
great majority of topics in morals and humanity, 
public opinion is almost sure to be in advance of 
what men would be if left to themselves. Imper- 
fect as public opinion is, there is not one man in 
ten thousand, whom a fear of offending it does 
not make more circumspect in main' respects 
than he otherwise would be ; more anxious not 
merely to appear, but also to be, worthy of public 
confidence. 

And besides, why insist on what cannot be? 
Theorists may declaim, as they will, about the 
duty and the safety of disregarding public opin- 
ion as a practical principle, but a single glance at 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



227 



the actual working of the social constitution will 
show that, even with the theorists themselves, 
theory is one thing and practice another. No 
sane man ever did or ever will live in society, 
and yet be wholly indifferent to the opinion of 
society ; for, however much he may be at issue 
with society on some points, he is never at issue 
with it in such a sense as to cast off all regard to 
appearances. The martyr, on his way to the 
stake, is not content with being sincere and 
brave ; he would appear so, and live as such in 
the memory and speeches of men. And why not ? 
Why not wish to stand well before the sense of 
right in other men, as we would before the sense 
of right in ourselves, or in God ? 

Let me, therefore, repeat what I said in the 
beginning : — public opinion has its legitimate place 
as a rule and sanction of human conduct, even in 
matters of right and wrong. Private conscience 
is not an absolute or all-sufficient rule, to the 
exclusion or neglect of the public conscience ; 
much less is it of the nature of a protest against 
the public conscience. If it were so, where would 
be found that unity in men's moral judgment on 
which law is founded, and without which society 
could not exist ? 

Still it by no means follows that there is no 
occasion for the warning in the text, " that we 



228 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



henceforth be no more children, tossed to and 
fro, and carried about by every wind of doc- 
trine." The character of the trimmer and time- 
server, whether from selfish notions or from mere 
weakness, is so" odious, and of so frequent occur- 
rence in modern society, that we can hardly be 
too much on our guard against the danger of 
which the Apostle speaks. 

How then is this danger to be averted ? How 
is it possible to pay a proper regard to public 
opinion, without allowing it to become inordi- 
nate, — a snare to our own integrity, to all manly 
independence and stability of purpose ? 

In the first place, we are to make sure that 
what we take for public opinion is public opin- 
ion ; — a much more difficult thing to do than is 
commonly supposed. The writers and talkers 
constitute but a small minority of any com- 
munity ; yet we are very apt to reason and act 
on the assumption, that, what the writers and 
talkers sat/, everybody thinks. Nay, a very few 
writers if they write a great deal, and a very 
few talkers if they talk a great deal, and talk 
loudly and confidently and repeat themselves 
and quote one another, can easily create an im- 
pression, in regard to some subjects, that the 
world is on their side when it is not. And 
when to this is added the whole machinery of 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



229 



party and popular agitation, — pamphlets, period- 
ical publications, newspapers, meetings, speeches, 
agencies, — it is astonishing how small a number 
of leading and active spirits can make their earnest 
cry, either for or against the project in hand, 
sound like the public voice. So it was with a 
knot of philosophers in the opening scenes of 
the first French Revolution. Even in our own 
days, a single newspaper in London aspires, we are 
told, to manufacture public opinion for the whole 
kingdom. So profound is my reverence for the 
will of the people, or of even a majority of the 
people, that, could I be sure it has been expressed 
freely and understandingly, I should hardly hesi- 
tate, in any case, to obey. But I must have 
better evidence that the people will it, than the 
reiterated and passionate asseverations of zealots 
or demagogues assuming to speak in their name. 
I remember that among the people are vast num- 
bers who cannot be said to have made up any 
mind on the subject, and also that many among 
those who have made up their minds are kept 
back from expressing them by constitutional re- 
serve, or by inability or distaste for controversy. 
I remember, too, Burke's often-quoted illustration : 
" Because half-a-dozen grasshoppers under a fern 
make the field ring with their importunate chink, 
whilst thousands of great cattle, reposed beneath 



230 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



the shadow of the British oak, chew the cud and 
are silent, pray do not imagine that those who make 
the noise are the only inhabitants of the field ; that 
of course they are many in number ; or that, after 
all, they are other than the little, shrivelled, meagre, 
hopping, though loud and troublesome insects of 
the hour." 

There is nothing of which I feel more confident 
than I do of this: that what often passes for public 
opinion is not public opinion, but the passions and 
prejudices of a few heated, and it may be interested, 
writers and talkers. Happily, in almost every com- 
munity making the smallest pretensions to intel- 
ligence and freedom, there is a powerful reserve 
of moderate and silent men, who seldom cause 
themselves to be heard or felt in public matters, 
but yet are known to exist, and, by creating a fear 
of reactions, operate as a check on violent and 
headlong counsels. I say, " by creating a fear of 
reactions ; " for the liability to reactions, about 
which so much is said, would seem to resolve 
itself into the fact, that ordinarily a considerable 
portion of society take but little part in the great 
movements going on around them, until alarm at 
the waywardness or extravagance of these move- 
ments constrains them, contrary to all their natural 
tastes and inclinations, to speak out. When they 
do speak out, and not until they do, we are in a 



PUBLIC OPINION. 231 

condition to know what the public opinion really 
is, — that which previously passed for it being but 
a counterfeit and a pretence. I hold therefore, 
that, in making up our minds as to what public 
opinion enjoins or forbids, we are not to look to 
the writers and talkers alone ; but are to take into 
the account that powerful reserve of moderate and 
for the most part silent men, on whom, as I be- 
lieve, in all great and trying emergencies God 
has made the order and stability of society in no 
small measure to depend. Truth and justice, as 
it seems to me, demand this at our hand. Besides, 
were we always disposed to take this course, I 
need not say how much it would do to save both 
Church and State from those panics and violent 
and. disastrous convulsions, which have done so 
much, and are likely to do so much more, to 
trouble and retard the progress of humanity and 
civilization. 

But supposing it to be conceded whither public 
opinion points, another question arises : — Is it an 
enlightened public opinion ; that is, one formed 
on a proper understanding of the subject, and 
freely expressed? Who would, for example, give 
much weight to the public voice in despotic 
countries, where not a word is printed which has 
not passed under a rigid censorship of the press, 
nor a word uttered in favor of liberty or against 



232 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



the powers that be, even in familiar intercourse, 
but at the hazard of men's lives ? Who, again, 
would attach much importance to universal con- 
sent in matters of faith among the Roman Catho- 
lics, where the principle is avowedly acted on of 
submitting all individual differences to the unity 
of the Church ? In all such cases there is no 
proper public opinion ; there can be none : the 
voice is the voice of many, but the opinion is the 
opinion of one or a few of a past age. In all such 
cases the consent of the multitude is not the result 
of opinion, but of arrangement and influence ; men 
giving their suffrages as mechanically as if you 
heard the clatter of the machinery by which their 
hands are lifted up. 

Then, too, there are mysterious states of mind 
as well as body, brought about we cannot always 
tell how, in consequence of which, as in the witch- 
craft times, whole communities, though compara- 
tively enlightened and free, become liable to strange 
delusions. The delusion arises and spreads, and 
takes on the laws of an epidemic, and the people 
are mad, and not the less so because all are mad to- 
gether. But what regard is clue to public opinion 
when, as in such cases, it appears under the form 
of public frenzy ? 

Add to this that local or sectional interests or 
prejudices often have the effect to blind and per- 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



233 



vert the judgment, so as to make it of little or no 
value as evidence of truth and right, though the 
almost unanimous judgment of a whole community. 
Have you never known a difficult financial, politi- 
cal, or moral question, respecting which those for 
whose supposed interest, convenience, or safety it 
is that it should be decided in one way, maintain 
almost to a man that it ought to be so decided ; 
while those for whose supposed interest, con- 
venience, or safety it is that it should be decided 
in the opposite way, are just as confident and 
unanimous that it ought to be so decided ? Nar- 
row-minded men may suspect and charge one at 
least of the parties to such a contest with acting 
against what they see to be right ; but it is much 
more reasonable, as well as much more fair and 
magnanimous, to suppose that neither party is in 
a condition to see what is right in the particular 
question. If so, however, their united opinion on 
the subject, though honestly entertained and freely 
expressed, is not worth a straw. We can see this 
in our neighbors, and especially in our opponents ; 
but, unhappily, we cannot see it in ourselves. The 
very idea that a man's judgment is blinded or per- 
verted, by prejudice or passion, implies that he 
himself is insensible to the delusion ; otherwise, 
I hardly need say, the delusion would not be. 
Look, again, and observe in what manner con- 



234 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



sent in opinion and concert in action are often 
brought about, especially in politics and religion, 
and then tell me candidly how much such consent 
and concert are worth. If, indeed, the uniformity 
insisted on resulted from the free, independent, 
and unbiassed action of individual minds calmly 
deciding the question on its merits, and in view 
of all the evidence on both sides, and with a single 
eye to the truth, it would be a moral miracle if it 
varied much from the reality. But no such thing. 
Take away what early education has done, and 
what mere authority has done, and what sympathy 
and imitation have done, and what party spirit and 
party drill have done, and what addresses to the 
feelings, and especially to men's fears and jeal- 
ousies, have done, — and what is there left? Pub- 
lic opinion, do you say ? Ought it not rather to 
be accounted an illustration of the practicability 
of casting a multitude of minds in one and the 
same mould, wherever the proper apparatus for 
doing it exists, and the right sort of men can be 
found to work it ? I do not mean that a wise 
man will slight or contemn, or needlessly defy 
even, such a public opinion ; but he will hardly 
regard it as the fruit of profound research and 
free discussion, or as being in any way the ef- 
fect of evidence, or as being itself of the nature 
of evidence that should weigh with the weight of 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



235 



a feather in making up his own conclusions* He 
knows that whoever supposes a multitude of per- 
sons can really think, and yet think exactly alike, 
has yet to learn what thinking means. Accord- 
ingly, so far as authority or argument is con- 
cerned, he will be more influenced by conclusions 
deliberately arrived at by a single individual of 
an honest and gifted mind, who has really ex- 
amined the subject for himself under the best 
lights of an advancing science and civilization, 
than by the consent of many thousands, where 
this consent is obviously a matter of tradition, or 
policy, or sympathy, or drill, or a mere echo. What 
a noted writer has said is strictly true : " One man, 
who has in him a higher wisdom, or a hitherto un- 
known spiritual truth, is stronger, — not than ten 
men who have it not, nor than ten thousand, — but 
stronger than all men who have it not, and stands 
out among them with quite an ethereal, angelic 
power." 

Let me call your attention to another circum- 
stance. What gives to public opinion its chief 
and characteristic value consists in this : that it is 
understood to result from a great variety of minds, 
acting under a great variety of influences and pre- 
possessions, and so tending to balance, qualify, and 
correct one another. It is understood to be an 
opinion in which the old and the young, the rich 



236 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



and the poor, the learned and the unlearned con- 
cur. Hence it follows, that the public opinion of 
a party as to the measures of the party, or of 
emplo} r ers on one side, or of workmen on the 
other, as to their respective rights and duties, is 
not public opinion, properly so called. The same 
is also true of collections of persons living to- 
gether in temporary or partial separation from the 
rest of the world, so as to have what is called a 
public opinion of their own, especially where com- 
munity of age, or of prejudice, or of taste and pur- 
suits inclines them all to look on subjects under 
one and the same point of view. Under such 
circumstances, what is sometimes appealed to as 
public opinion is not public opinion. It is not 
the opinion of the public, but of a minute and 
isolated portion of the public, — an opinion also 
generated and pronounced under special biasses 
of judgment, with nothing to balance, modhy, or 
correct these biasses. So far from being the opin- 
ion of the public, it is the opinion of a class or 
clique. This, I know, may be right ; let us hope 
that it generally is so : what I insist upon is, that 
it is just as liable to be misled by one-sided views 
of subjects as the opinion of an individual; and 
when it is thus misled, a sense of numbers will 
only have the effect to exaggerate and intensify 
the one-sidedness and the mischiefs growing out 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



237 



of it. For this reason, if a man expects aid to 
his conscience from public opinion, it must be 
from a large and comprehensive public opinion. 
It must not be the public opinion of his clique 
or party ; and therefore it is well if what he 
sometimes calls public opinion, that is, the preva- 
lent opinion among those immediately about him, 
is not continually tempting him to do what his 
own conscience, and the public conscience rightly 
understood, alike condemn. 

One caution more. We are never to give way 
to public opinion, however formed and however 
well ascertained, in such a manner, or in such a 
spirit, as to be " like children, tossed to and fro, 
and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by 
the slight of men and cunning craftiness, whereby 
they lie in wait to deceive." 

On a multitude of questions respecting the mere 
externals of life a wise man will do as others do ; 
not because he has no opinion of his own, but be- 
cause it is reason enough, in such cases, to take one 
course rather than another, if such is the common 
practice. Moreover, it is a great mistake to sup- 
.pose that deference to public opinion is, in general, 
a temptation to inconstancy and fickleness, to in- 
novation and change : on the contrary, it is the 
sheet-anchor of conservatism. Read the lives of 
such men as Chillingworth and Blanco White. 



238 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



All admit their ability and general excellence 
of character ; but all lament, at the same time, 
their melancholy instability of faith, which arose 
not from too much but from too little sympathy 
with the common mind. What was said of one 
of them applies to the whole class : " His fre- 
quent changes proceeded from too nice an in- 
quisition into truth : his doubts grew out of 
himself : he assisted them with all the strength 
of his reason : he was then too hard for himself ; 
but finding as little quiet and repose in those vic- 
tories, he quickly recovered by a new appeal to 
his own judgment ; so that, in all his sallies and 
retreats, he was in fact his own convert." 

Sometimes, however, the vertigo seizes the pub- 
lic, a whole community, a whole sect or party, 
only here and there an individual being spared. 
What shall these individuals do ? Then, too, there 
are great interests and questions, in respect to which 
the legitimate condition of the human mind is one 
of progress, and the natural order of this progress 
is that the few should be in advance of the man} r . 
Shall the few, from fear of the many, or from a 
slavish regard to public opinion, be unfaithful to . 
this trust ? Foreigners contend, and I am afraid 
not entirely without reason, that, owing to politi- 
cal and social peculiarities, there is no country on 
the face of the earth where a selfish or timid sub- 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



239 



serviency to public opinion is carried so far as it 
is here ; in short, that, with all our boast of inde- 
pendence, there is no people among whom so little 
real independence is to be found, especially among 
those who ought to lead and not merely to fol- 
low public sentiment. " Ye have not so learned 
Christ ; if so be that ye have heard him, and have 
been taught by him, as the truth is in Jesus." 
To allow the individual to be merged and lost in 
the mass, to be turned into a mere tool, copy, echo 
of the public will and the public voice, would 
be to forget and frustrate the essential purpose, 
the very genius, the distinctive peculiarity of 
Christianity. Every man, we are told, is to bear 
his own burden ; every man is to have his rejoic- 
ing in himself, and not in another : to his own 
Master he is to stand or fall. Moreover, the 
whole doctrine of Divine influences supposes a 
man to act from his own spirit, as the same has 
been touched and regenerated by the Spirit of 
God. We may still think with others ; on most 
subjects we probably shall, and it is natural and 
right that we should ; but it must be because we 
really think with them, and not because we allow 
them to think for us, turning us this way or that 
as they will. Under all circumstances, at any 
risk, we must have a mind of our own, as the 
condition of having a soul of our own ; " that we 



240 



PUBLIC OPINION. 



henceforth be no more children, tossed to and 
fro and carried about with every wind of doc- 
trine, by the slight of men and cunning crafti- 
ness whereby they lie in wait to deceive ; but 
speaking the truth in love, may grow up into 
him in all things which is the head, even 
Christ." 

1856. 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



241 



XIV. 

AM I NOT IN SPORT 1 

"As a madman who casteth firebrands, arrows, and death, so is the 
man who deceiveth his neighbor, and saith, Am not I in sport ?" — 
Pboverbs xxvi. 18, 19. 

TT is incalculable how much pain is inflicted, and 
how much injury is done, without any thing 
which can properly be called malicious intent, or 
deliberate wrong. Thus there are those who, like 
the madman mentioned in Scripture, will cast fire- 
brands, arrows, and death, and then think it a suf- 
ficient excuse to say, " Are we not in sport?" Let 
it be that they are, I think it will not be difficult 
to show that this will not excuse, or do much to 
palliate, the conduct in question. I think it will 
not be difficult to show that men are answerable 
for the mischiefs they do from mere wantonness or 
in sport, and that it is wrong-doing of this descrip- 
tion which makes up no inconsiderable part of 
every one's guilt. 

It is to little or no purpose to be able to say 
that such offences do not originate in conscious 
11 p 



242 



AM I NOT IN SPORT 7 



malice, for, as has just been intimated, the same 
is true of a large proportion of acknowledged 
crimes. It is seldom, very seldom, that men in- 
jure one another from hatred, or for the sake of 
revenge, — because they find, or expect to find, 
any pleasure in the mere consciousness of inflict- 
ing pain. Men injure one another from wanton- 
ness, or want of consideration ; or, more commonly 
still, because the carrying out of their policy, or 
their prejudices, or their sport happens to inter- 
fere with the interests and comfort of others, and, 
though really sorry for this, they are not prepared 
to give up either their policy, or their prejudices, 
or their sport to spare another's feelings. Wars 
are waged and conquests made, and mourning and 
desolation spread through a whole country, in the 
wantonness of honor, or to gratify an insatiable 
ambition ; but without any thing which can prop- 
erly be called malice, either in the first movers or 
immediate agents. Men opposed to each other in 
politics or religion will allow this opposition to go 
to very unjustifiable lengths, even to the disturb- 
ing of the peace of neighborhoods, and the break- 
ing of friendships and family connections ; and all 
this, to be sure, must give rise to a great deal of 
ill-will and hot blood ; but it does not originate 
in malice, properly so called, — in positive malice 
towards any body. So likewise a rash and im- 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



243 



provident man may bring incalculable mischiefs 
on all connected with him, involving them in 
pecuniary difficulties, or committing and paining 
them in other ways, and yet be able to allege 
with perfect truth that he did not mean to clo 
them any harm ; that, so far from being actuated 
by malice, he feels nothing and has felt nothing 
but the sincerest affection for the very persons 
whom he has injured, and most affection, per- 
haps, for those whom he has most injured. But 
why multiply illustrations ? The whole catalogue 
of the vices of self-indulgence and excess, — black 
and comprehensive as it is, — has nothing to do 
with malicious intent ; that is to say, these vices 
do not find any part of their temptation or grati- 
fication in ill-will to others, or in the conscious- 
ness of causing misery to others. And yet who, 
on this account, denies that they are vices, or that 
they are among the worst of vices ? 

Hence, the moral perplexity existing in some 
minds on this subject may be traced to two 
errors : making malice to be the only bad mo- 
tive by which we can be actuated ; and con- 
founding the mere absence of malice with that 
active principle of benevolence, or love of our 
neighbor, which Christianity makes to be the foun- 
dation and substance of all true social virtue. 

How unfounded the first of these assumptions 

i 



2U 



AM I NOT IN SP0BT7 



is, appears generally from what has "been said ; 
but the same may also be shown on strictly 
ethical grounds. We must distinguish between 
what is simply odious, and what is immoral : the 
malignant passions when acted out by animals are 
odious, but they are not immoral, because they 
are not comprehended in that light by the agent. 
The reason why the malignant passions are im- 
moral in man is that he knows them to be 
immoral ; and accordingly any other passion, 
which he knows to be immoral, becomes for 
the same reason alike immoral to him as a prin- 
ciple of conduct. Hence it follows that, though 
not actuated by malice, we may be by some other 
motive equally reprehensible in a moral point of 
view, though not perhaps as odious, — by the love 
of ease, by vanity or pride, by unjust partialities, 
by inordinate ambition, by avarice or lust, — dis- 
positions which have nothing to do with malice, 
but yet are felt and acknowledged by all to be 
bad and immoral. Moreover, the tendencies of 
modern civilization are to be considered in this 
connection. Times of violence are gradually giv- 
ing place to times of self-indulgence and fraud ; 
and the consequence is that now, where one man 
is betrayed into vices of malevolence and outrage, 
twenty are betrayed into those of frivolity, licen- 
tiousness, or overreaching. I go further still. 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



245 



Suppose a man actuated by none of these posi- 
tively bad motives ; nay, suppose the injury done 
to be accidental and wholly unintentional, this will 
not in all cases justify the deed. The question 
still arises whether the injury done, supposing 
it to be wholly unintentional, might not have 
been foreseen and ought not to have been fore- 
seen ; for, where the well-being of others is con- 
cerned, we are bound not only to mean no harm, 
but to take care to avoid every thing which is 
likely to do harm : and negligence in this respect 
is itself a crime. So obviously just is this princi- 
ple, so entirely does it approve itself to the reason 
and common sense of mankind, that we find it 
everywhere recognized, in some form or other, in 
the jurisprudence of civilized countries. " When 
a workman flings down a stone or piece of timber 
into the street, and kills a man, this may be either 
misadventure, manslaughter, or murder, according 
to the circumstances under which the original act 
is done. If it were in a country village, where a 
few passengers are, and he calls out to all people 
to have a care, it is misadventure only ; but if it 
were in London, or other populous town, where 
people are continually passing, it is manslaughter, 
though he gives loud warning ; and murder, if he 
knows of their passing and gives no warning at all, 
for then it is malice against all mankind." 1 
1 Blackstone. 



246 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



Equally groundless is the second of the above- 
mentioned assumptions, — to wit, that of confound- 
ing the mere absence of malice with the active 
principle of benevolence itself, or that love of our 
neighbor which Christianity makes to be the 
foundation and substance of all true social virtue. 
There is nothing, perhaps, which more essentially 
distinguishes worldly propriety and legal honesty 
from Christian virtue than this, that they stop with 
negatives. They are content with avoiding what is 
expressly forbidden, not reflecting that this, at the 
best, only makes men to be not bad; it does not 
make them to be good. Besides, if we take this 
ground, if we allege the absence of all anger and 
resentment, we bar the plea that we were hurried 
into the act by the impetuosity of our passions, — 
a plea which the experience of a common infirmity 
has always led men to regard as the strongest 
extenuating circumstance of wrong-doing. If we 
have given pain to a fellow-creature, it is stating 
an aggravation of the fault and not an excuse, 
to say that we did not do it in passion but in 
cold blood ; and worse still, if we say that we 
did it in sport. What ! find sport in giving pain 
to others? This may consist, I suppose, with the 
absence of what is commonly understood by 
malice; but I utterly deny its compatibility with 
active Christian benevolence, or with what in- 



AM I NOT IN SPORT ? 



247 



deed amounts to the same thing, a kind, gener- 
ous, and magnanimous nature. Were I in quest 
of facts to prove the total depravity of man, I 
should eagerly seize on such as the following : — 
the shouts of heartless merriment sometimes 
heard to arise from a crowd of idlers collected 
round a miserable object in the streets ; a pro- 
pensity to tarn into ridicule, not merely the 
faults and affectations of others, but their natural 
deformities or defects : jesting with sacred things, 
or practical jests, the consequences of which to 
one of the parties are of the most serious and 
painful character ; and the pleasure with which 
men listen to sarcastic remarks though causeless 
and unprovoked, or to wit the whole point of 
which consists in its stingy Not that the doctrine 
of universal and total depravity is actually proved 
even by such conduct, for happily the conduct it- 
self is not universal ; to some it is repugnant from 
the beginning ; and besides, even where it is fallen 
into, I suppose it is to be referred in a majority of 
cases to a love of excitement, rather than to a love 
of evil for its own sake. Still I maintain that the 
conduct in question, however explained, is incom- 
patible, or at any rate utterly inconsistent, with 
thoughtful and generous natures. 

Still, many who would not think entirely to 
excuse the conduct in question can find pallia- 



248 



AM* I NOT IN SPORT ? 



tions for it and extenuating circumstances, some 
of which it will be well to examine. 

In the first place it is said that the sport is not 
found in the sufferings of the victim, but in the 
awkward and ludicrous -situations and embarrass- 
ments into which he is thrown. Now I admit, 
that, if these awkwardnesses and absurdities could 
be entirely disconnected with the idea of pain, 
they might amuse even a good mind : but as 
they cannot be thus disconnected, — as all this 
is known and seen to be the expression of 
anguish either of body or mind, or to be the 
consequence of some natural defect or misfor- 
tune, or some cruel imposition on weakness or 
good nature, — I affirm as before, that he whose 
mirth is not checked by this single consideration 
betrays a want of true benevolence, and even of 
common humanhyy. Neither will it help the mat- 
ter much to say that the pain and mortification 
are not known, are not seen, or at least are not 
attended to; that this view of the subject is 
entirely overlooked, the mind being wholly taken 
up with its ludicrous aspects. For how comes it 
that we have so quick a sense to every thing 
ludicrous in the situation and conduct of others, 
but no sense at all to their sufferings ? Our 
hearts, it would seem, are not as yet steeled 
against all sympathy in the sufferings and mis- 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



249 



fortunes of our neighbors, provided we can be 
made to apprehend and realize them ; and this is 
well : but why so slow to apprehend and realize 
them ? If, though directly before our eyes, the 
thought of them never occurs to our minds ; if 
we can say, and say with truth, that while we 
enjoyed the sport it never once occurred to us 
that it was at the expense of another's feelings, 
though this fact was all the time staring us in 
the face, — does it not at least betray a degree of 
indifference or carelessness about the feelings of 
others, which is only compatible with a cold and 
selfish temper ? Put whatever construction you 
will, therefore, on this kind of sport, it argues a 
bad state of the affections : for either its connec- 
tion with the pain and mortification of others is 
perceived, and then it is downright cruelty ; or 
it is not perceived, and then it is downright in- 
sensibility. 

Another ground is sometimes taken. There are 
those who will say, " We cannot help it. Persons 
of a constitution less susceptible to the ludicrous, or 
less quick to observe it, may do differently, but we 
cannot." Obviously, however, reasonings of this 
sort, if intended as a valid excuse, betray a singu- 
lar and almost hopeless confusion of moral ideas. 
They cannot help it? Of course they do not 
mean that they would be affected in the same 
11* 



250 



AM I NOT IN SPORT ? 



way by the same thing, under all circumstances 
and in all states of feeling. Let the coarse jest 
be at the expense of a parent, or of a sister ; or 
let its tendency be to bring derision on an office, 
a cause, or a doctrine which we have much at 
heart; or let it offend beyond a certain point 
against the conventional usages of what is called 
good society, — and, instead of provoking mirth, it 
provokes indignation or contempt. All they can 
mean, therefore, is simply this : their sense of the 
ludicrous is so keen, that, when not restrained by 
some present feeling of justice, humanity, or de- 
corum, it becomes irrepressible. Undoubtedly it 
does ; but this is no more than what might be 
said of the worst crimes of sensuality and excess. 
What would you think if a sordid man should 
plead, that being sordid by nature, and not hav- 
ing any high principle or feeling to restrain him, 
he cannot help acting sordidly ? Does he not 
know that it is this want of high principle and 
feeling which constitutes the very essence of his 
sin ? We have shown that to find sport in what 
gives pain, argues a bad state of the principles 
and affections. Manifestly, therefore, it is to no 
purpose to urge as an excuse, that in the existing 
state of our principles and affections we cannot 
help it ; for the existing state of our principles 
and affections is the very thing which is com- 
plained of and condemned. 



AM I NOT IN SPORT ? 



251 



It may be contended, as a last resort, that this 
state of mind is consistent, to say the least, with 
amiable manners, companionable qualities, and good 
nature. But if herein is meant to be included real 
kindness of heart, or the highest forms of gener- 
osity and nobleness of soul, I deny that it can be. 
There is no necessity of trying to make it out that 
men of this stamp are worse than they really are. 
Unquestionably they can and often do make them- 
selves agreeable and entertaining, especially to 
those who are not very scrupulous about the oc- 
casions of their mirth, and feel no repugnance to 
join in a laugh which perhaps they would hesi- 
tate to raise. Good-natured also they may be, if 
nothing more is meant by this than the absence 
of an unaccommodating, morose, and churlish dis- 
position : for there are two sorts of good nature ; 
the good nature of benevolence, and the good 
nature of ease and indifference. The first will 
not consist, as we have seen, with wrong-doing 
from wantonness or in sport; but the last may: 
yet even when it does, not much credit can accrue 
from this circumstance. Worthy of all honor is 
that good nature which springs from genuine kind- 
ness and sympathy, or a desire to make and to see 
everybody happy ; but the same can hardly be 
said of what often passes for good nature in the 
world, though it is nothing but the result of an 
easy temper and loose principles. 



252 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



Still, I cannot but think that a large majority 
of those who sometimes look for sport in wrong- 
doing have enough of humanity and of justice to 
restrain them, if they could only be made to under- 
stand and feel the extent of the injury thus oc- 
casioned. Take, for example, jesting with sacred 
things. Its influence on those who indulge in it 
is worse than that of infidelity ; for it destroys 
our reverence, and it is harder to recover our 
reverence, after it has been lost, than our convic- 
tions. Nay, it is often worse than that of daring 
crime : the latter puts us in opposition to religion ; 
but it does not necessarily undermine our respect 
for it, or the sentiment on which the whole rests. 
Consider, too, its effects on others. The multi- 
tude are apt to mistake what is laughed at by 
their superiors for what is ridiculous in itself. 
In France it was not the sober arguments of a 
knot of misguided atheists, but the scoffs and 
mockeries and ill-timed pleasantries in which the 
higher classes generally shared, which destined 
the popular sense of the sanctity of religion ; and 
when this great regulative principle of society was 
gone, it was not long before the mischief came 
back, amidst scenes of popular license and des- 
peration, " to plague the inventors." And so of 
cruel sports. In reading the Sermon on the 
Mount, you must have been struck with the 



AM I NOT IN SPORT"? 



253 



fact, that, while he who is angry with his brother 
is only said to be in clanger of the judgment, 
' ; whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in 
clanger of hell fire." But, on second thoughts, 
is this any thing more than a simple recognition 
of what Ave all know to be true ; that hatred does 
not inflict half so deep or bitter a feeling of wrong 
as scorn ? Much is said about the disorganizing 
doctrines and theories of the day ; but, bad as 
these are, they are not likely to do so much to 
exasperate the poor against the rich, and break 
down the bulwarks of order and law, as the con- 
duct of some among the rich themselves. The 
time was when the few could trample with indif- 
ference on the interests and feelings of the many, 
and make sport of their complaints with impunity ; 
but that time has passed away. 

One word also on those cruel sports where ani- 
mals, and not men, are the sufferers. Cruelty to 
animals is essentially the same feeling with cruelty 
to a fellow-creature, and in some respects it is even 
more unbecoming. Man is as a god to the infe- 
rior races. To abuse the power which this gives 
us over the helpless beings that Providence has 
placed at our mercy, is as mean as it is inhuman. 
If we would listen to the pleadings of what is 
noble and generous in our natures, it would be 
as impossible for us needlessly to harm an unof- 



254 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



fending animal, as it would be to strike an infant 
or an idiot. Shame on the craven who quails be- 
fore his equals, and then goes awa}^ and wreaks 
his unmanly resentments on a creature which he 
knows can neither retaliate nor speak ! Besides., 
we may suppose that there are orders of beings 
above us, as well as below us. Look then at our 
treatment of the lower animals, and then ask your- 
selves what we should think, if a superior order of 
beings should mete out to us the same measure. 
What if in mere wantonness, or to pamper un- 
natural tastes, they should subject us to every 
imaginable hardship and wrong ? What if they 
should make a show, a public recreation, of our 
foolish contests and djdng agonies ? Nay, more ; 
what if it should come to this, that in their lan- 
guage a man-killer should be called a sportsman by 
way of distinction ? 

But I must close. I wage no idle and bootless 
war against innocent mirth. We have it on the 
authority of the Bible, and we read it in the con- 
stitution of man, that there is "a time to weep 
and a time to laugh." There will also be ample 
scope for the legitimate action of caustic wit, so 
long as there are follies to be shown up, pre- 
tenders to be unmasked, and conceit and affecta- 
tion to be taught to know themselves. But, in 
the serious strifes of the world, the ultimate ad- 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



255 



vantages of this, weapon, though wielded on the 
right side, are more than dubious. " The Span- 
iards have lamented," it has been said, " and I 
believe truly, that Cervantes' just and inimitable 
ridicule of knight-errantry rooted up, with that 
folly, a great deal of their real honor. And it 
was apparent that Butler's fine satire on fanati- 
cism contributed not a little, during the licentious 
times of Charles II., to bring sober piety into dis- 
repute. The reason is evident : there are many 
lines of resemblance between truth and its coun- 
terfeits ; and it is the province of wit only to 
find out the likenesses in things, and not the 
talent of the common admirers of it to discover 
the differences." At any rate we can shun the 
rock of small wits, who think to make up for 
poverty of invention by scurrility and grimace, 
who think to gain from the venom of the shaft 
what is wanting in the vigor of the bow. We 
can imitate the example of those among the 
great masters of wit in all ages, who have enno- 
bled it by purity of expression and a moral aim ; 
so that, in the end, virtue may not have occasion 
to blush, or humanity to mourn, for any thing we 
have said or done. Take any other course, and 
we are reminded of the confession which experi- 
ence wrung from the lips of the Wise Man : "I 
said in my heart, Go to now, I will prove thee 



256 



AM I NOT IN SPORT? 



with mirth ; therefore enjoy pleasure : and behold 
this also is vanity. I said of laughter, It is mad ; 
and of mirth, What doeth it ? " " Even in laugh- 
ter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth 
is heaviness." 

1827-1857. 



HONESTY. 



257 



XV. 



HONESTY. 



" In all things willing to live honestly." — Hebrews xiii. 18. 



common to refer the charge to some busi- 
ness transaction. But this is taking a narrow and 
false view of the subject. A partisan who know- 
ingly avails himself of sophistical arguments in 
recommending a cause however sacred, is a dis- 
honest man. A demagogue who makes use of 
popular prejudices which he secretly despises, in 
order to compass ambitious schemes, is a dishonest 
man. The hypocrite, the sycophant, the charla- 
tan, — these are all dishonest men. Thus there 
are a multitude of ways in which a man can show 
himself honest or dishonest, — ways which have 
nothing to do with buying or selling. 

Honesty includes all those qualities which go to 
make up that sort of character which inspires con- 
fidence. By an honest man we mean a true man, 
— a man who can be depended on in all changes 
of circumstances, in all vicissitudes of fortune. 
He is one who feels what he professes, thinks 




man's honesty is questioned, it is 



Q 



258 



HONESTY. 



and means what he says, is what he seems. He 
is not one man to-day, and another man to-mor- 
row ; one man in one company, and another man 
in another company ; one man to me and another 
man to you. You always know where to find 
him. An honest man may have his failings ; nay, 
more, he may have great faults, — faults of man- 
ner and faults of temper. Honest men are not 
necessarily perfect men. They may be wrong- 
headed to almost any extent, — ignorant, preju- 
diced, overbearing, irritable, malicious even ; but 
it is contrary to their nature to be false. Honest}' 
of character is another name for directness and 
transparenc} T of character ; what is without corre- 
sponds to and indicates what is within; in one 
word, the life is an acted truth, and not an 
acted lie. 

But who is likely to listen to a sermon on 
honesty, as being personally interested in the ap- 
peal ? Men are not slow to acknowledge them- 
selves guilty of other sins, or at least extremely 
liable to them, — the sins of ignorance or weak- 
ness, of passion or in considera tion ; but who will 
confess that he is dishonest ? Who feels that he is 
in much danger of becoming so ? 

What does more perhaps than any thing else to 
create and foster this delusion is the verbal para- 
dox, that a man may be honest and yet not be 



HONESTY. 



259 



honest at the same time. That is to say, he may 
be honest in one sense of the word and not honest 
in another ; for honesty is a word which is used 
in different senses. Sometimes it stands for what 
is called legal honesty, meaning thereby that sort 
of honesty which is determined and enforced by 
ham an laws. Sometimes it stands for what is 
called worldly honesty, meaning thereby that sort 
of honesty which recognizes nothing higher than 
public opinion as its motive, measure, and end. 
And sometimes it stands for what alone should 
be called Christian honesty, meaning thereby that 
sort of honesty which consists in being honest 
according to the gospel standard of honesty, for 
its own sake, and in the fear of God. 

Now I am willing to admit that most persons 
moving about in respectable society are honest in 
one or another of these ways. We hear a great 
deal about " common honesty," and doubtless there 
is a kind or degree of honesty which is common 
enough. But who will say that this is true of 
Christian honesty ? And here it becomes us to 
consider whether any of the other forms of 
honesty are not essentially defective even as 
honesty. In other words, must we not make a 
distinction between real and nominal honesty, 
just as we make a distinction between real and 
nominal Christianity ? 



260 



HONESTY. 



Consider, in the first place, how little claim a 
man has to be regarded as really honest, who can 
pretend to nothing better than legal honesty, the 
honesty that never looks beyond or above human 
laws for its rule or its sanction. Human laws, as 
everybody knows, do not even so much as aim or 
profess to determine and enforce all right as such, 
but only so much of right as is necessary to the 
order and well-being of society. Beyond this, 
they very properly leave men to the restraints 
of conscience, and public opinion, and the fear 
of a future retribution. Even, therefore, if hu- 
man laws were perfect as far as they go, it would 
by no means follow that it is enough to be honest 
according to law. There are a multitude of ques- 
tions of right and wrong daily arising in the inter- 
course of society, which the laws do not touch ; 
and if in respect to these a man shows himself 
regardless of moral principle, he shows himself to 
be at bottom a dishonest man. I say this ad- 
visedly. If when the laws, for good reasons, 
refuse to interfere, and devolve the whole matter 
on conscience alone, a man's conscience also fails 
to act, it shows that he has no conscience. It is 
an abuse of language to say of such a man that 
he is honest according to law, inasmuch as his 
obedience to law does not spring from a sense 
of right. Unless a man acts from a principle of 



HONESTY. 



261 



honesty, he is not, properly speaking, honest at 
all. A man does not show himself to be really 
honest, in any form or degree, by being honest 
as long as the laws compel him to be so, but by 
being honest when he is free to be so, or not, as 
he pleases. 

Besides, it is conceding too much in favor of 
what is called legal honesty, to allow it to be 
assumed that the laws themselves are always 
what they should be. There are such things 
as bad laws ; and, though these can legalize 
wrong, they can hardly make wrong to be right. 
Indeed, now that laws are made and unmade 
with so much facility, and often under the dis- 
turbing influences of popular or party excite- 
ment, have we not almost as much to apprehend 
from wrong-doing under color and sanction of 
law, as from wrong-doing in open violation of 
law ? Yet I suppose all will agree, that wrong- 
doing in either case is wrong-doing. If there is 
such a thing as being honest according to law, 
there is also such a thing as being dishonest ac- 
cording to law. Certainly I cannot be mistaken 
here. If I do what I know and feel to be un- 
fair or overreaching, an iniquitous law may be 
found to screen me ; but what of that ? It 
may keep me from being actually treated as a 
dishonest man ; but will it keep me from de- 



262 



HONESTY. 



serving to be so treated ? I do not say but that, 
under a free government like ours, a bad law is 
to be submitted to, until it is repealed by the 
proper authorities, merely because it is the law. 
It is one thing, however, to submit to a bad 
law, — that is, to suffer under it, — and quite an- 
other to take advantage of it ; the latter being in 
all cases, as it seems to me, neither more nor 
less than making use of one wrong to justify 
or excuse another. 

Thus does it appear that legal honesty, mean- 
ing thereby that sort of honesty that can be, and 
is, enforced by human laws, is radically and essen- 
tially defective, even as honesty. It is so, in the 
first place, because human laws are sometimes 
bad and iniquitous in themselves ; in the second 
place, because these laws however good in them- 
selves are sometimes made, through the imper- 
fection of human foresight and human language, 
to cover cases of substantial injustice ; and in the 
third and last place, because human laws even 
when right in themselves, and rightly executed 
and applied as far as they go, do not even so 
much as aim or profess to determine and enforce 
all right as such, but only so much of right as is 
necessary to the public welfare. I do not mean 
that there is no honesty in obedience to the laws, 
or that any man can be honest, in a community 



HONESTY. 



263 



like ours, without such obedience ; but this I say : 
the proof of his honesty, instead of beginning 
where this obedience begins, begins rather where 
this obedience ends. To prove that we are honest, 
we must persist in doing what is right, not only 
as long as the laws stand ready to coerce it, but 
also when, from any cause, they leave us free to 
do otherwise. 

Let us next inquire how it is with worldly 
honesty, — the honesty, I mean, which has no bet- 
ter foundation than a regard for public opinion 
and worldly success. This, I hardly need say, 
is sometimes better, and sometimes worse, than a 
strictly legal honesty. It is sometimes better, be- 
cause public opinion for the time being may be 
in advance of the laws, and require more ; on the 
other hand, it is sometimes worse, because public 
opinion, for the time being, may fall behind the 
laws, and require less. In the latter case, the best 
of laws, though unrepealed, are apt to become 
either wholly or in part a dead letter. Making 
the most of worldly honesty, it is but another 
name for what may be called the average virtue 
in the community, for the time being, with this 
distinction, that it supposes some degree of reflec- 
tion and forethought. It is the virtue of men who 
are wise in their generation, and think to find in 
worldly wisdom alone a sufficient foundation and 



264 



HONESTY. 



guarantee of upright conduct. It is the virtue of 
men who are for ever recurring to the maxim that 
" honesty is the best policy ; " who think it is only 
necessary for men to know what their interest is, 
and they will do what is right ; who would fain 
resolve all crime into ignorance or mistake, and 
cannot find it in their hearts to say any thing- 
worse of sin, than that it is a great blunder. 

Now unquestionably there is much truth in 
these assumptions ; it is not however the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth. A Christian 
should be the last person in the world to deny that 
64 honesty is the best policy." God has made it to 
be so in all cases. It is not only the greatest rule, 
but there are no real or imaginable exceptions to 
the rule, so long as all a man's interests are taken 
into the account. In no case whatsoever is it con- 
sistent with a man's interests to deviate, though 
but for a hair's breadth, from strict right, if by 44 a 
man's interests " are meant all his interests. But 
if we are going to restrict our view to a part of his 
interests, and to the lowest and most inconsider- 
able part, that alters the case. It is by no means 
so clear but that some deviations from strict right 
may be consistent with a part of a man's interests, 
— with those, for example, which pertain to this 
world. It may still be true, as doubtless it is, 
even if we look not beyond this life, that honesty 



HONESTY. 



265 



is the best policy as a general rule ; but who will 
say that it is a rule which admits absolutely of no 
exceptions f And the mischief of these exceptions 
does not end with leaving virtue unsupported, 
when they actually occur. The idea that there 
are exceptions will tempt every person, who is 
sorely tried, to believe or to assume that the 
case in hand is one of them ; and he will act 
accordingly. 

I come, therefore, to this conclusion : even if 
policy of any kind were sufficient of itself to make 
a man honest, it would not be worldly policy. It 
must be a policy which comprehends all a man's 
interests, — the interests of his soul as well as 
those of his body, the interests of eternity as well 
as those of time ; in short, it must be Christian 
policy : otherwise it would be essentially defective 
even as policy. 

But I am far from believing that policy, of any 
name or nature, is to be regarded as the legitimate 
ground, or as a sufficient safeguard of strict honesty. 
Those who think it enough to demonstrate that 
" honest}^ is the best policy " would seem to pro- 
ceed on the assumption, that every man takes that 
course which he is convinced will be for his interest 
in the long run. But is it so ? Dismiss, for a 
moment, all theories on the subject, and look at 
facts. Take that vast catalogue of vices and 
12 



266 



HONESTY. 



crimes which originate in disordered appetite or 
unbridled passion. Do you suppose that the men 
who give way to these temptations really think 
they are consulting their interests here or hereafter ; 
that they are doing what it is good policy to do ? 
No ! a thousand times, no ! If you still entertain 
any doubts on the subject, go and ask them in 
moments when thought returns, and they will an- 
swer you just as I have done, mingling the con- 
fession with bitter imprecations on their own 
weakness and folly. 

On this point we must guard against a mistaken 
inference from men's acknowledged selfishness. 
Men are selfish ; but it is a selfishness which, when 
left to itself, looks not to self-advantage but to 
self-indulgence, and to self-indulgence at any cost. 
You may think to find an exception to this remark 
in the griping and pinching habits of the miser ; 
but it is an exception in appearance only. Even 
he is not counting on any real and substantial 
benefits as the reward of his labors and sacrifices ; 
he does but yield to the blind impulse of a present 
passion, the greed of gain. 

No ; what we chiefly need is not more selfishness, 
Heaven knows ; but more principle, — a reverence 
for what is right, fidelity and devotion to duty. 
And this is precisely that state of mind which 
Christianity aims to induce. It is taking a most 



HONESTY, 



267 



unworthy view of the gospel, to suppose it con- 
tents itself with setting before us life and death, 
heaven and hell, and leaving them to act as they 
may on the selfishness of our nature. The aim of 
our Saviour's teachings, I might almost say their 
whole purport and end, is to excite, develop, and 
enlighten our moral and spiritual faculties ; to 
create within us a spontaneous aversion and dis- 
gust for what is mean and base ; to awaken and 
call out disinterested and inextinguishable aspira- 
tions for what is pure and noble, and a living 
and all-sustaining sense of the Divine presence and 
agency. When this change is wrought upon us, and 
not before, we may hope to comprehend the full 
import of that dark Scripture, " Whosoever is born 
of God doth not commit sin ; for his seed re- 
maineth in him, and he cannot sin, because he is 
born of God." 

Taking this view of honesty, who will say that 
the subject is not a proper one for the Christian 
pulpit at all times ? If I went no further than to 
recommend legal honesty, or worldly honesty, or 
even a pagan or deistic honesty, it might be other- 
wise. The old cry might be raised, " You are 
preaching no more than what Socrates and Seneca 
preached." But certainly neither Socrates nor 
Seneca ever preached Christian honesty ; the 
honesty that finds its law, its spirit, and its tests 



268 



HONESTY. 



in the New Testament. The indiscriminate offence 
taken by some, at what they call " moral preach- 
ing," grows out of confounding together two 
propositions which are very far from being iden- 
tical. They say that religion is one thing, and 
morality another ; and this is true. They go on to 
say, as if it were to repeat the same doctrine in 
other words, that Christianity is one thing, and 
morality another ; but this is not true. The reason 
is that the gospel everywhere inculcates a peculiar 
morality as well as a peculiar religion ; so that the 
former is just as much Christianity as the latter. 
Do not understand me to say one word against 
evangelical faith, or evangelical piety : all I ask for 
is that to these may be added more and more of 
evangelical honesty. 

There is call for this exhortation in all sects, and 
especially in those which make the greatest pre- 
tensions to sanctity and zeal. Whose fault is it, 
that men of business are put on their guard when 
thej r find themselves dealing with one who assumes 
to be more than usually religious ? Is it not be- 
cause long experience has taught them that the 
honesty of professed Christians is often a very dif- 
ferent thing from Christian honesty? Is this 
scandal to last for ever ? Christianity will never 
stand before the world on the vantage-ground it 
ought to hold, until those who claim to represent 



HONESTY. 



269 



it are known, not by the badges of this or that 
sect, but by the singular purity and rectitude of 
their conduct. And this suggests the best crite- 
rion by which to determine the comparative merits 
of rival creeds. One is best for one thing, and 
another for another. One induces reverence for 
authority ; another stirs the religious emotions ; a 
third makes missionaries and martyrs. All this is 
well as far as it goes ; but the result is not a com- 
plete and well-balanced Christian character. The 
best form of religion is that which assigns a proper 
place to reverence, to the emotions, and to zeal, but 
lays its principal stress on the doctrine that, to be ac- 
cepted of God, a man must be good, — thoroughly 
good, honest, trustworthy, in all the relations of 
life. The best form of religion is that which leads 
men to respect one another, and deal fairly with 
one another ; the worst form of religion is that 
which leads men to hate or despise one another. 

Let me add that the inculcation of strict prob- 
ity and incorruptibleness is doubly necessary in sea- 
sons of great social and political disturbance. It 
is sometimes said that war, even a civil war, is fa- 
vorable to the higher virtues ; and so in a certain 
sense it is. It offers frequent occasions for heroic 
deeds ; it calls for self-denial and self-sacrifice in 
tones of unwonted power ; it is also a school for 
the manly qualities of courage and endurance, of a 



270 



HONESTY. 



generous patriotism and a lofty ambition. All this 
I freely admit ; but I must qualify it by observing, 
that opportunities are afforded, at the same time, 
for giant frauds ; that the restraining power of 
public opinion is disordered, and on some subjects 
wholly perverted ; in fine, that minds, and good 
minds too, become so intent on success as to be 
more or less unscrupulous about the means. In 
this state of things, why wonder that measures 
should be sometimes advocated, and men upheld, 
on princi£>les to which nothing but the blinding 
and corrupting influences of the terrible struggle 
could reconcile a people of any pretensions to 
justice and honor. 

To counteract such tendencies let the pulpit 
be faithful to its high function, and amidst the 
din of conflicting interests and passions hold up 
the Christian standard of a perfect righteousness. 
Woe to those who traffic in the public distresses 
and perplexities with a view to dishonest gains ! 
Woe to those who palter with the public con- 
science, even though it is with a mistaken view to 
the public good ! Our country, in this hour of her 
extreme peril, expects great sacrifices from us, bat 
not the sacrifice of integrity and honor. We be- 
lieve that the right is on our side : let us stand on 
that right, and glorify it by a conduct worthy of 
the great and solemn issue ! Not only the future of 



HONESTY. 



271 



our own country, but that of freedom and human 
rights everywhere, is at stake : the battle is fought 
in the face of a world from which we look for little 
sympathy ; still the danger is not that we shall be 
slain by the sword, but that we shall fail to exhibit 
a degree of private and public virtue equal to the 
exigency, — that we shall not have union enough, 
or magnanimity enough, or Christian principle 
enough to save us from a general demoralization, in 
which our own honor and the best hopes of man- 
kind will go down together. Whatever calamities 
befall us, may God in his infinite mercy vouchsafe 
that righteousness which is the glory and the 
strength of a Christian nation, and avert that sin 
which is the reproach and ruin of any people ! 

1861. 



272 TEE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 



XVI. 

THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 

" Ye, therefore, beloved, seeing ye know these things before, beware lest ye 
also, being led away with the error of the wicked, fall from your own 
steadfastness. — 2 Peter iii. 17. 

TN speaking of his early days, Mr. Gibbon ob- 
serves : " Every time I have since passed over 
Putney Common, I have always noticed the spot 
where my mother, as we drove along in the coach, 
admonished me that I was now going into the 
world, and must learn to think and act for myself." 
I am not surprised at the deep and indelible im- 
pression which this simple fact, on account of its 
connections, appears to have left on the mind of 
the great historian. He had arrived at one of 
those critical periods in the life of man, where 
much would depend on the way in which he should 
begin. He had just left, perhaps for the first time, 
the constant and countless restraints of home ; he 
would soon find himself in a new situation, in the 
midst of strange faces, beset by unaccustomed dif- 
ficulties and temptations, and would there be called 




TEE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 273 



upon, with the scanty stock of experience he must 
be supposed already to have acquired, to shape his 
course by his own unassisted discretion as he best 
could. 

Thus it is, that, under the same or like circum- 
stances, the entrance of any young man into the 
little world of a large public school or college, 
where by necessity he must be left, for the most 
part, to think and act for himself, constitutes no 
ordinary trial of character. But it is a satisfaction 
to know that whoever sees fit to meet it with 
upright intentions, and a good share of fore- 
thought, self-distrust, and self-control, will find 
himself equal to this trial. And, if he succeeds 
here, it is the best earnest he can possibly give 
of success in after-life ; for the foundation of hu- 
man trial, and the foundation of our superiority 
to it, are everywhere substantially the same. All 
turns on the single question, whether we can safely 
be trusted with the liberty to think and act for 
ourselves. To do right under constraint, when we 
are not free to do otherwise, is nothing : one man 
will do it as well as another. It is only when this 
constraint is relaxed, and men are put to a con- 
siderable extent under their own keeping, and 
called upon to think for themselves and act for 
themselves, that the great distinctions among them 
arise. He only who knows how to use his liberty 

12* K 



274 THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 



without abusing it, succeeds ; and he who knows 
how to do this in one place will be likely to know 
how to do it in another. 

As I have said, there is nothing in the trials of 
a college life to deter or dishearten a person of 
good and strong purposes. Still it would be 
treachery of the worst kind to hold out the lure 
of safety and ease, — to affirm, or to imply, or to 
allow it to be presumed, that the failures are not 
frequent, or that the dangers are not many and 
great. And what makes it worse in respect to 
many of these dangers is, that often they are not 
suspected, or, which amounts to the same thing in 
practice, not sufficiently considered until it is too 
late. For this reason I have thought it would be 
well to begin the religious instructions of the 
academic year by calling your attention to some of 
the dangers peculiarly incident to an academic life : 
so that, knowing these things before, you may be 
less likely to be led away with the error of the 
wicked, and fall from your own steadfastness. 

One of these dangers, though occurring here, is 
to be referred to causes which the student brings 
along with him ; I mean his constitutional pre- 
dispositions. It was a favorite notion of some of 
the French philosophers, in which they were fol- 
lowed but too closely by our Franklin, that 
mankind in general come into the world with pre- 



THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 275 



cisely the same rational endowments, all the dif- 
ferences which afterwards arise originating in dif- 
ferences of education. Few, if any, will be found 
to entertain this doctrine now, the tendency of 
common opinion and of the popular philosophy 
being to the opposite extreme. Great stress is now 
laid on distinctions of race and blood ; innate and 
often hereditary biasses are thought to influence, 
and for the most part to determine, the whole life ; 
and men are found who are fain to read in the 
organization of the child his future destiny. This, 
as I have said, is the other extreme ; it supposes 
us to be born with propensities which it is the 
work of life to manifest, and not to govern and 
control. Obviously however it is so far founded 
in truth as this, that some men have strong con- 
stitutional predispositions to excess or defect in one 
direction, whilst others have equally strong con- 
stitutional predispositions to excess or defect in 
another : and hence their principal danger. 

And the danger in this case is made tenfold 
greater, if the individual does not know himself ; 
if he will not consider the errors to which, from 
his constitution and temperament, he is peculiarly 
exposed ; in short, if from any cause he will not 
acknowledge even to himself his besetting sins. 
Some there are who are slow to confess to besetting 
sins of any kind, because they are not conscious of 



276 THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 



desiring any evil for its own sake ; but such persons 
entirely mistake what is meant by a besetting sin. 
A besetting sin, as here understood, does not sup- 
pose a man to desire evil for its own sake, but only 
that he desires something else so inordinately, that 
he is always in danger of doing evil in order to 
gratify this desire. For example ; it may be the 
love of ease, or the love of company, or the love 
of pleasure, or the love of display. Now it is not 
pretended that ease, or company, or pleasure, or 
display is bad in itself, that is to say, in its proper 
place and degree. But if all a man's constitutional 
leanings incline him to one of these forms of 
gratification, the danger is that, in order to gain it, 
he will not scruple to sacrifice or neglect more 
important objects, and so fall into transgression. 
We are not to blame for our constitutional pre- 
dispositions ; we cannot help them if we would : 
but we can know them if Ave would, and we can 
consider them in every thing we do ; always re- 
membering that the great question is not what is 
safe for others, but what is safe for us; always 
remembering, also, that the price of safety is per- 
petual vigilance. 

Another form of danger incident to college 
life grows out of hastily-formed and ill-assorted 
friendships and intimacies. One of the most per- 
plexing facts in Divine Providence is, that we 



THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 211 



should be responsible for our characters, and yet 
that our characters should depend so much on the 
conduct of others. A young man, probably with- 
out confirmed principles, for these generally suppose 
long experience and a confirmed faith, but with 
upright intentions and good impulses, comes under 
the influence of a stronger mind than his own, and 
how apt he is to become but little more than a 
reflection of that stronger mind ! Thus it is that 
the ascendancy, and the social and winning quali- 
ties, of a single bad man will blight the prospects 
and sometimes utterly ruin the hopes of many, not 
only for this world but also for the world to come. 
Nevertheless, it is proper to observe that in all 
such cases the victims are, to a certain extent, 
willing victims : they cannot be thus used until 
they consent to be thus used. Hence their fall, 
considered as a difficulty in Providence and a 
moral anomaly, is, in some measure at least, cleared 
up ; for, by allowing others to destroy them, they 
may be said, in some sense, to destroy them- 
selves. 

But these are not the only ill-assorted friendships 
and intimacies to which a community like this may 
be expected to give birth. As has been intimated 
before, there are few persons so happily constituted 
by nature as not to be troubled by a constant lean- 
ing to one side or the other, which must be resisted, 



278 THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 



or they would fall. These leanings, however, are 
different in different persons ; and where, as some- 
times happens, this is the case with intimate friends, 
it may even be said that the faults of one help to 
balance and correct the faults of the other; so that 
both are made better by the intercourse. But I 
hardly need say, that the contrary is more likely to 
happen ; especially with persons of but little re- 
flection, who are drawn together unconsciously by 
the very fact that they have so many tastes, or, it 
may be, so many failings, or so many dangerous 
propensities, in common. Because they like to do 
the same things, they are likely to go together, — 
the indolent with the indolent, the reckless with 
the reckless, the pleasure-loving with the pleasure- 
loving. And what is likely to be the consequence ? 
Plainly this, that they will encourage and stimulate 
each other to act out, and to act out with less and 
less reserve, inclinations which it should be the 
labor of their lives to restrain and repress. Thus, 
without pretensions to much power of any kind, 
without any bad purpose or disposition, nay, under- 
strong and perhaps sincere professions of love and 
regard, they contrive to do each other precisely the 
greatest harm of which they are susceptible, that 
is, break each other down at the very point where 
they are least likely to recover. 

Of the same general description is another 



TEE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 279 



danger almost sure to grow up in a community, 
the members of which think and act by themselves, 
being isolated to a considerable extent from the 
rest of the world. I mean the danger resulting 
from an artificial state of public opinion, and an 
artificial, and consequently more or less unsound, 
standard of manners and morals. It is a mistake 
to suppose that friendships and intimacies are 
forced upon us by the single circumstance that we 
are constrained to live together, as in a ship, a 
camp, or a college. Each one is still at liberty, 
and is generally found, in point of fact, to exercise 
the liberty, to choose his intimates according to his 
own inclinations and tastes. Over all, however, by 
common though it may be tacit consent, certain 
rules and maxims gradually acquire the authority 
of law, which persons possessing no more than 
ordinary strength and independence of character 
can hardly be expected to disown, or even so much 
as call in question. On these .points, therefore, 
their conduct, instead of being as it ought to be 
a manly expression of their own individual convic- 
tions of duty, is always in danger of degenerating 
into a mere echo of the general voice, a timid and 
servile acting out of the general will. 

I am not disposed to speak disparagingly, on the 
whole, of the sort of public opinion which is apt 
to be generated in a community of young men, 



280 THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 



whose bond of union is the common pursuit of 
liberal studies. As a general rule, I believe it is 
singularly free from the alloy of meanness, selfish- 
ness, and untruthfulness of every kind, and that 
its very errors may be traced for the most part 
either to an excess, or to a misapplication, of 
principles which are in themselves eminently 
good. Still, it can hardly be without permanent 
injury to a man's moral nature, that he should 
subscribe himself slave to any artificial and arbi- 
trary rule ; and besides, we must not shut our 
eyes on the fact that no principles have done so 
much harm in the world as perversions of the 
best principles. Some may think that there is no 
real danger in this case, because every student on 
leaving college, if not before, is found to disclaim 
and ridicule the rules and maxims here complained 
of, as a matter of course. But why disclaim and 
ridicule them as a matter of course, if they are felt 
to be just and safe ? Moreover, is there no danger 
that the habit once formed of submitting to a 
factitious standard of right in the place of con- 
science, will be continued, the only change being 
in the factitious standard itself, and this, too, prob- 
ably a change for the worse ? Is there no danger 
that the habit of a weak or timid conformity here 
may turn out to be a training for that conformity to 
the world, which the gospel takes occasion to con- 



THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 281 



derail more frequently and more strenuously, per- 
haps, than any other error or sin ? 

The other dangers peculiarly incident to a col- 
lege life originate in mistaken notions of the nat- 
ure and extent of education, and of the proper 
motives to studj^. 

Let me begin what I have to say on this topic 
by disclaiming all sympathy with those who con- 
demn altogether a regard for distinction as ex- 
pressed in the approbation of wise and good men. 
In the first place, I cannot bring myself to look 
on such condemnation as just to human nature, 
or as being, in most instances at least, sincere. 
Furthermore, we need, we imperiously need, the 
good opinion of others to encourage and assure 
us in the course we have begun. Certainly we 
must not study for distinction in itself considered, 
but for distinction as evidence that we deserve it, 
— an evidence peculiarly necessary and therefore 
peculiarly welcome to humble, distrustful, and in- 
genuous minds. At the same time there is evident 
danger that, in the rivalries among students, they 
may look exclusively or mainly to immediate dis- 
tinction ; that they may strive for the premature ; 
that they may not be willing to labor patiently 
and untiringly for a distant good ; that th$y may 
think that the love of distinction may be substi- 
tuted for the love of excellence. There is no 



282 THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 



such thing. An aphorism, which a truly dis- 
tinguished son of this college inscribed on the 
walls of his studio, is applicable to every form of 
mental effort. " No genuine work of art ever was, 
or ever can be, produced but for its own sake ; if 
the painter does not conceive to please himself, he 
will not finish to please the world." 

Again, the student is always in danger of not 
sufficiently considering that the paramount object 
of education, and especially of a general and pre- 
liminary education, is not to fill the mind, but to 
strengthen and enlarge it. It has sometimes been 
said that the training of animals is better under- 
stood than the training of men ; for in the former 
case the whole aim is to form the animal to the 
qualities required. Perhaps it will be objected 
that qualities cannot be taught ; and this is true ; 
but they can be developed, which amounts to the 
same thing in effect, the result being that those 
have them, who otherwise would not. Therefore 
it is, that, in regard to any study pursued at 
school, or in college, the great question is not, of 
what use will be the knowledge it will impart, 
but of what use will it be, considered as a means 
of exercising and disciplining the mind itself. 
Look at the persons who have succeeded best in 
the various departments of human industry ; in- 
quire into their history, and you will find them 



THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 283 



to owe their success much less to the stock of 
knowledge which they brought with them into ac- 
tive life than to their personal qualities, — that is, 
to previously formed habits of attention and obser- 
vation, of activity, presence of mind, self-control, 
and the power of concentrating their entire and 
utmost energies on the business in hand. 

But if there is danger in neglecting the cultiva- 
tion of the mental qualities mentioned above, how 
much greater that which consists in neglecting the 
cultivation of the conscience and the heart ! I 
have spoken of success in life ; but a moment's 
reflection must convince every one that this is 
not the ultimate object of education. The ulti- 
mate object of education is happiness considered 
as the fruit of duty and usefulness. Success in 
life may be looked to, I grant, as one of the 
means of usefulness and happiness, and as such 
be provided for in a judicious education ; but, 
viewed under this relation, it is not worthy to 
be compared with the unavoidable influences, 
either for good or for evil, of temper and char- 
acter. The world is full of examples of what is 
called success in life, without any thing which 
deserves the name of happiness, content, or self- 
respect. Nay, should you have any doubts on 
this subject, let me ask you to bring the ques- 
tion to the test of your own experience. Put 



284 TEE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LLFE. 



all you have suffered from outward adversities 
into one scale, and all you have suffered from a 
mortified vanity and pride, from a disappointed 
ambition, from hasty or ill-governed passions, and 
from a guilty conscience into the other, and see 
which preponderates. In short, when education, 
from any cause, is divorced from morals, when 
it is sought after and obtained as a mere power, 
with no security that this power will not be 
abused, its principal recommendation is gone, and 
the old question returns, not without reason, 
whether after all it is a blessing or a curse. 

Let me conclude by adverting to a danger in 
education more fundamental still ; I mean the 
danger of thinking to find any other basis for 
character but religious principle and the Chris- 
tian faith. I speak not here of religious dogmas ; 
but of a religious spirit, of the religious sentiment, 
of religion considered as an element, or rather as 
the foundation, of character, which is found to 
subsist in almost equal perfection under the 
greatest diversity of religious dogmas. What we 
need is to be trained from the beginning in the 
habitual recognition of the constant presence, 
agency, and government of Almighty God. What 
we need is, that our hearts, before they have 
become fixed and hardened by worldly influen- 
ces, may be touched to higher issues, may learn 



THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 285 



to respond to higher relations and a higher des- 
tiny ; in one word, that what is divine in our own 
souls may be so quickened and developed as to 
bring us into communication with what is divine 
in nature, in Scripture, and in life. Let this be 
neglected, let the neglect become general, and I 
do not believe that a high and pure virtue could 
be maintained ; above all, I do not believe that 
civil liberty would be either practicable or desir- 
able. There never has been but one experiment 
on a large scale, to see whether men can live 
together in society without religion, and you 
know the result. Robespierre himself, " in his 
remarkable discourse on the restoration of pub- 
lic worship, denounced atheism as inconsistent 
with equality, and a crime of the aristocracy; 
and asserted the existence of a Supreme Being, 
who protects the poor and rewards the poor, as 
a popular consolation, without which the people 
would despair." 

I have discoursed of the dangers and difficulties 
which encompass the student from the beginning. 
But I am unwilling to quit the subject without 
repeating what I have said before ; it is a pleasure 
and satisfaction to know that to many these dan- 
gers and difficulties exist only to be overcome, and 
so to be turned into occasions of triumph. To 
persons of good and strong purposes the promise 



286 THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 



of the gospel is fulfilled : " Behold I give unto 
you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, 
and over all the power of the enemy ; and noth- 
ing shall by any means hurt you." 

Preeminently among such was, the young mem- 
ber of this society, the intelligence of whose re- 
cent, sudden, and, as we in our shortsightedness 
are tempted to say, untimely death has filled all 
our hearts with sadness. 1 So happily was he con- 
stituted by nature, that all his prevailing tastes 
and inclinations seemed to be to good. Again, 
he could suffer but little from ill-assorted friend- 
ships and intimacies, as he was led to seek com- 
panionship only as a means of self-improvement, 
of generous ambition, or of innocent pastime. 
He also knew how to conform to the conven- 
tionalities of the place as far as a genial temper 
and an unselfish prudence required, without the 
sacrifice of that moral independence which he 
taught others to respect by respecting it himself. 
Finally, we have reason to believe that he never 
essentially mistook the motive or the end of a 
truly Christian education ; which is to fit man 
for the performance of the highest duties from 
the highest principles. For ever blessed be the 
memory of one who has recommended goodness, by 

1 The allusion is to John N. Mead, of Brattleboro', Vt, a 
member of the Class of 1851. 



THE DANGERS OF COLLEGE LIFE. 287 



combining with the qualities which command our 
reverence, the qualities which win our love. 

His work is accomplished. Much of ours re- 
mains to be done ; and this too, as we have seen, 
in the face of formidable dangers and difficulties : 
so much so, that it would be with a heavy heart 
that I should bid you go on, if I could not bid 
you at the same time, " God speed." " As an 
eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her 
young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, 
beareth them on her wings, — so the Lord alone 
will lead you. Even the youths shall faint and 
be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall. 
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew 
their strength ; they shall mount up with wings 
as eagles ; they shall run and not be weary, and 
they shall walk and not faint." 

1850. 



288 



WHITE LIES. 



XVII. 



"WHITE LIES. 



" For if the truth of God hath more abounded through my lie unto his 
glory, why yet am I also judged as a sinner :? " — Eomans iii. 7. 



OME confusion has been introduced into our 



carefully the distinction between truth and verac- 
ity. Truth, in its primary acceptation, is not a 
quality of character, but a quality of statements. 
A statement is either true or false ; that is, it does 
or does not accord with the facts in the case. 
But even if it be false, a man may utter it and yet 
not be guilty of lying ; because he may utter it, 
believing it to be true. Such a man may be said 
to want the truth ; that is to say he is in error, he 
is mistaken: but he cannot be said to want ve- 
racity ; he tells the truth as he understands it. 
Accordingly we have no right to blame a man 
merely because his statements are not true. This 
is an objection to the statements, but it is no objec- 
tion to the man, if he really thinks them to be 
true, and has taken proper pains to inform himself. 




moral subjects by not marking 



WHITE LIES. 



289 



What we have a right to blame a man for is the 
want of veracity, the want of a disposition and 
intention to speak the truth. Here the imputa- 
tion extends, as }^ou will observe, to the man him- 
self. It supposes something to be wrong not only 
in the statement, but in the man who makes the 
statement. 

Hence it by no means follows that every false 
statement is a lying statement ; for to make it such 
it must be uttered by one who believes it to be 
false. 

A candid and generous application of this obvious 
distinction, in the every-day intercourse of society, 
would make men slower than they commonly are 
to impeach each other's veracity, how much soever 
they might still distrust each other's information or 
judgment. They would see that a large propor- 
tion of the popular delusions, unfounded calumnies, 
and idle rumors in circulation in the community, 
can be satisfactorily accounted for and explained, 
without ascribing them to intentional and deliber- 
ate perversion of the truth. I do not mean that 
a man who is always ready, on slight grounds, to 
take up with a report injuriously affecting his 
neighbor, and assist in spreading it, is innocent. 
Neither do I mean that the dealers in crude and 
disorganizing theories in philosophy, politics, or 
religion are innocent. Such men are not innocent. 
13 s 



290 



WHITE LIES. 



Far from it. But, generally speaking, their fault 
does not consist in lying ; that is, in a conscious 
purpose to deceive or mislead. Their fault con- 
sists, rather, in hasty and rash judgment, in an 
overweening conceit in their own abilities, in mis- 
taking a love of novelty and paradox for a love of 
truth, or in not taking sufficient care to guard 
against a credulous turn of mind. And it is 
absolutely essential that he who undertakes to 
expose and correct their fault should consider this. 
How can you expect to cure a man of a fault 
of w r hich he is really guilty, by accusing him of 
another fault of which he knows he is not guilty ? 
These men believe what they say, just as much as 
you believe what you say. Their fault does not 
consist in saying what they do not believe ; but in 
believing on insufficient grounds and under wrong 
biasses, in over-confidence in what they believe, 
and in the presumption and injustice to which this 
over-confidence leads. The weakest of all weak- 
nesses is, to suspect everybody who differs from us 
of insincerity. 

Most persons, perhaps, will be willing to concede 
this in favor of the ignorant multitude, the deluded 
masses, the blind followers, as they are called ; but 
not so as regards the leaders. Such a man, we 
often hear it said, must know better. But he may 
not after all. The ways of self- mystification, the 



WHITE LIES. 



291 



artifices of self-deceit, transcend by far, both in num- 
ber and in subtil ty, what is commonly supposed. 
And besides, credulity is an inborn propensity of 
some minds, so thoroughly ingrained that no kind 
or degree of teaching or experience can effectually 
work it out of their constitution. Hence we often 
meet with veiw learned and very ingenious men 
who are among the easiest to be imposed upon ; 
especially if the folly or the cheat can be made to 
wear a learned and ingenious look. If I were 
bent on propagating a new extravagance, I would 
rather take my chance, at least in most cases, with 
thinking and speculative men than with plain, 
practical men ; and for this reason. I should 
expect to find less difficulty in persuading the 
former than the latter to drop the substance and 
catch at the shadow, — that is to say, at a theory. 

History, rightly read, confirms what has been 
said. If the truth were known, I suspect it would 
be found that, in most instances, the authors and 
principal instigators of the great popular delusions 
have differed from their followers chiefly in this, 
that they were among the first to be entirely 
carried away by the delusion. Who doubts, at 
the present day, that Mohammed and Cromwell 
entered on their career in good faith, and that, but 
for this, nothing but defeat and disgrace would 
have waited on their imbecile presumption? 



292 



WHITE LIES. 



I do not mean that such persons are never guilty 
of prevarication and insincerity in particular things, 
in order to help the delusion over a difficulty or 
round a corner ; but I do mean that in regard to 
the delusion itself they are generally, — not always, 
but generally, at least at the beginning, — honest. 
There is more or less of lying mingled, I am afraid, 
with almost every life ; but I do not believe that it 
is common to find a life which is built on a lie. 

You will perceive how slow I am to give credit 
to charges of wholesale lying, which malice, jeal- 
ousy, or narrow-mindedness is so ready to bring 
against individuals, and even against whole sects 
or parties. This, however, does not hinder me 
from suspecting and believing that there is a vast 
deal of lying in a small way ; and, what is more 
and worse, a disposition everywhere to justify or 
excuse it, on the ground that though these are lies, 
they are white lies. I have no faith in this distinc- 
tion. I do not believe it has any proper foundation 
in reason or Scripture. Let us not be misled by 
names. Show that the error is not a he ; resolve 
it into ignorance, misunderstanding, illusion of smy 
kind, and all is well ; at anj 7 rate, it is not a lie : 
but admit it to be a lie, and I do not believe that it 
is in the power of any ingenuity of construction or 
explanation to wash it entirely white. 

On this hint I am going to speak. I am not 



WHITE LIES. 



293 



going to speak of gross lying, the baseness and 
turpitude of which all the world is loud enough to 
condemn, but of these so-called white lies, which 
partake as it seems to me, in different degrees, of 
the same baseness and turpitude, and from which 
in point of fact the bulk of the community have 
much the most to fear, both in themselves and in 
others. 

The principal reason why so many are ready to 
acquiesce in the distinction in favor of white lies, 
is to be found in their superficial and inadequate 
views of what constitutes the sin of lying. They 
make it to consist wholly or chiefly in the harm 
done the individual to whom the lie is told, or, at 
most, in the social evils or inconveniences occa- 
sioned, directly or indirectly, thereby. Without 
doubt these are important considerations as far as 
they go, and are to be taken into account in es- 
timating the aggravations of the offence, and the 
motives which should deter us from committing it ; 
but they do not constitute the essence of the sin. 
The essence of the sin of lying, as such, does not 
consist in the injury done to others, but in the 
wrong done to our own souls, through the viola- 
tion of that eternal law of truth which God has 
wrought into our moral constitution, through the 
Stirling or overruling of the instinct or sentiment 
of veracity, which no man whose heart is right can 



294 



WHITE LIES. 



do, without being self-condemned. If I purposely 
injure my neighbor by lying, I commit a double 
crime, the crime of malice and the crime of false- 
hood, the crime of malice in addition to the crime of 
falsehood. In other words, I commit one crime by 
means of another. And in this case, the criminality 
of the means does not depend on the criminality of 
the end ; the malice does not make the lying to be 
criminal, any more than the lying makes the malice 
to be criminal : both are criminal, each in its own 
essential and unalterable nature. For this reason, 
the great question is, as it seems to me, not 
whether other men under certain circumstances 
have, or have not, a right to the truth, but whether 
we, under any circumstances, have a right know- 
ingly to utter an untruth ; not whether duplicity 
and deception will be good or evil in particular 
instances or in view of general consequences, but 
whether duplicity and deception are not evils in 
themselves ; and if so, whether we have a right to 
do evil that good may come ; or, for it comes to 
this at last, whether the end sanctifies the means. 

And what say the Scriptures ? " Lying lips are 
an abomination to the Lord." " Putting away 
lying, speak every man truth with his neighbor." 
" Ye shall not steal, neither deal falsely, neither lie 
one to another." " Knowing this, that the law is not 
made for a righteous man, but for the lawless and 



WHITE LIES. 



295 



disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the 
unholy and profane, for murderers of fathers and 
murderers of mothers, for man-slayers, for man- 
stealers, for liars, for perjured persons, and if there 
be any other thing that is contrary to sound doc- 
trine." I quote these passages, because to Chris- 
tians they are, as it seems to me, decisive. Besides, 
they are full of instruction, because, in the first 
place, they show with what crimes lying is associ- 
ated and classed in the Word of God, — with per- 
jury and man-stealing and parricide. Not that the 
heinousness and turpitude of the crimes thus 
brought together are necessarily equal ; but I 
think that we have a right to infer that their guilt, 
whatever may be its degree, is equally essential 
and unalterable. Again, it is still more in point to 
notice that, with respect to lying, there is no trace 
in these passages that its guilt depends on the 
circumstances, or the end aimed at. Nothing is 
said about white lies ; we are not told never to lie 
except when we think it will be harmless, or do 
more good than harm ; but the prohibition, accord- 
ing to any fair construction which I can put upon 
the language, is as unconditional and unqualified 
as that against murder, man-stealing, or theft. 

If there are any on whom this appeal to 
Scripture is thrown away, on the ground that the 
Scriptures are nothing to them, let them at least 



296 



WHITE LIES. 



consider what is universally regarded as the point 
of honor among men of the world. There is noth- 
ing which men, who think at all of reputation, 
resent so promptly and so indignantly as a question- 
ing of their word, as a direct impeachment of their 
veracity. Now if the mere imputation of this 
crime gives such mortal affront, it must be because 
the crime itself is accounted one of the basest ; 
otherwise we must conclude that the objection of 
a man of honor is not to being a liar, but only to 
being called one. Neither can we, in consistency 
with what is said about the disgrace of lying, 
make distinctions in this vice. The disgrace of 
lying, even in the opinion of the world, does not 
depend on the uses to which it is put, or on the 
mischief it does, but on the fact that under any 
and all circumstances it betrays a want of courage, 
manliness, and sincerity. I come, therefore, to 
this conclusion. Even if we lay the Bible out of 
the account, and look only to the standard of the 
world, either the exceeding sensitiveness every- 
where manifested by gentlemen to the doubting of 
their word is mere cant and hypocrisy, or they do 
really feel that lying of itself, in every form and 
degree, leaves an indelible stain on the character. 

But on a purely practical subject like the pres- 
ent, it is not well to stop with generalities, which 
nobody perhaps will dispute, and at the same 



WHITE LIES. 



297 



time nobody will apply. Let us, therefore, de- 
scend to particulars, and, taking up some of these 
pretended white lies, look a little into their title 
to be so regarded as innocent or venial. 

I shall begin with lies of custom. Here we 
must take care not to mix up questions which 
have nothing to do with each other. Custom or 
usage, I hardly need say, determines the mean- 
ing of language in all cases ; and sometimes it 
gives to a whole phrase, as in the instance of 
the common subscription to a letter, a peculiar 
significance different from the one it had origi- 
nally, and different from the one which grammati- 
cal construction would give. But this has nothing 
to do with the subject. It is enough if a man uses 
these phrases truly ; that is to say in their cus- 
tomary import, so that he really means all he is 
understood to mean. In such a case his language 
stands in no need of indulgence on the plea of 
being a white lie. It is no lie at all ; no mutual 
understanding is violated ; no confidence is abused ; 
nobody is deceived or misled. But if by lies of 
custom is meant that degree of real deception 
which may happen to be customary in the com- 
munity, and if the doctrine is, that deception to 
this degree is allowable or venial, nothing can be 
more false and dangerous. You might just as well 
extend the same doctrine to other vices. You 
13* 



298 



WHITE LIES. 



might just as well say that, where a certain de- 
gree of intemperance or knavery is customary, 
intemperance and knavery to that degree are 
innocent. Accordingly when it is said that in 
some professions, and in some kinds of business, 
a strict adherence to truth is not expected, it is 
not meant that it is not required, or that it is 
not necessary, there as elsewhere, to integrity 
and honor. What is meant is simply this, that, 
in the situations referred to, the temptation to 
swerve from integrity and honor is found to be 
too strong for the principles of most men, so that 
it is hardly to be expected in most men. 

I turn next to lies of courtesy, Here, again, 
there is occasion for discrimination. There are 
splenetic and churlish men who condemn, with- 
out distinction or reserve, what is termed polite- 
ness in refined society, as being no better than 
an acted lie. But is it so, — alwaj-s, I mean? 
What does a man profess or imply by politeness, 
rightly understood? Simply that he is actuated 
by a benevolent wish to make his presence agree- 
able to the company. If, therefore, he is really 
actuated as he ought to be, and as men some- 
times certainly are, by a benevolent wish to make 
his presence agreeable to the company, his polite- 
ness does not lie; it speaks the truth. Genuine 
Christian politeness is consistent with the utmost 



WHITE LIES. 



299 



sincerity and transparency of character. It is only 
when we begin to resort to falsehood and decep- 
tion as a means of pleasing, and encumber those 
whom we meet with protestations of regard which 
we do not feel, and feed their vanity with flatter- 
ing speeches, that our politeness begins to lie ; and 
then it begins to be a sin, and a sin without excuse, 
In such cases, it is to no purpose to say that fools 
only are deceived ; for in the first place it is not 
true ; and in the second place, even if it were 
true, we have no right to deceive fools. And 
besides, the great mischief of such politeness is 
not that here and there an individual is deceived, 
but that, in proportion as it prevails, a general sus- 
picion and distrust is awakened, and everybody's 
confidence in the openness and sincerity of social 
intercourse is disturbed. 

From lies of courtesy I pass to lies of humanity, 
meaning thereby such as are told not to injure, 
but to benefit others, from feelings of real tender- 
ness and concern, and not of malice. Paley in- 
cludes among white lies of this description those 
which it is allowable to tell madmen for their own 
advantage. But is such conduct, speaking gener- 
ally, within the strict interpretation of Christian 
duty ? Even as regards the policy of the proceed- 
ing, those only should speak who are best qualified 
by their experience and observation to pronounce 



300 



WHITE LIES. 



judgment in the case. A traveller in France, in 
his account of one of the principal hospitals for 
the insane in Paris, says that the great object 
aimed at by the officers is, " to gain the confi- 
dence of the patients ; and this object is gener- 
ally attained by gentleness, by appearing to take 
an interest in their affairs, by a decision of char- 
acter equally remote from the extremes of indul- 
gence and severity, and by the most scrujmlous 
observance of good faith. Upon the last condition, 
particular stress seems to be laid by the head of 
the institution, who remarks, 8 that insane per- 
sons, like children, lose all confidence and all 
respect, if you fail in 3^0 ur word to them, and 
they immediately set their ingenuity to work to 
deceive and circumvent you.' " Here we have, 
I doubt not, but a single illustration of what is 
universally true. The laws of God act together 
in perfect harmony ; there is never any clashing 
between what is really expedient and what is 
really right ; if we could see to the bottom and 
to the end of things, we should see that, in 
every case, what prudence suggests as the wisest 
course, and reason approves as the fittest course, 
conscience also enjoins as the only right course. 
But it is given to but few to see to the bottom 
and to the end of things. Hence I do not be- 
lieve that it is ever safe or justifiable to let our 



WHITE LIES. 



301 



views of expediency, always uncertain and short- 
sighted, and liable to be perverted unconsciously, 
by our personal leanings, smother the moral in- 
stincts of our nature, or turn aside the acknowl- 
edged inculcations of the Divine Word, which 
require that the law of truth should always 
be in our mouth. The moment we begin to al- 
low our notions of policy, or even of humanity, 
to modify or overrule our notions of right and 
wrong,* of sincerity and deceit, we open a door 
to abuses which no man can shut. 

On the same bad plea some think to defend a 
system of studied concealment, and at times even 
of downright prevarication and falsehood, in inter- 
course with the sick and dying. It is all clone, we 
are told, from real kindness of heart ; and so per- 
haps it is ; but it does not follow that it is done 
wisely or innocently. The reason commonly as- 
signed is, that to know the truth will discompose 
the sick, aggravate their disease, perhaps shorten 
their days. I do not believe that, in ordinary 
cases, there is any ground whatever for this ap- 
prehension. On the contrary, I believe that 
entire openness and unreservedness of communi- 
cation with the sick will help, in nine cases out 
of ten, to brace up their energies ; in one word, 
that manly treatment will inspire manly feelings. 
Besides, as it has been justly said, " there is a 



302 



WHITE LIES. 



peculiar inconsistency sometimes exhibited on 
such occasions. The persons who will not dis- 
compose a sick man for the sake of his interests 
in futurity, will discompose him without scruple 
if he has not made his will. Is a bequest of more 
consequence to the survivor than a hope full of 
immortality to the dying man ? " You may allege 
that it is too late now for the dying man to do 
any thing to prepare for eternity ; but this is 
more than you know. You do not know what, 
in the secrecy of his soul, he has to do, nor how 
long it will take him to do it, in order that he 
may die in peace. You do not know how much 
the penitence of a day, of an hour, of a minute, 
may serve to reconcile him to God. But to this 
you may reply that you are not afraid to take 
the risk. If you could take the risk, the answer 
would be pertinent, however presumptuous and 
unsatisfactory : but you cannot take it ; for this 
plain reason, that it is not yours to take, but the 
dying man's. As, therefore, you cannot stand 
between him and a peril, the magnitude of which, 
whatever you may think about it, you do not and 
cannot know, there is unspeakable presumption in 
thus devolving it deliberately and purposely on 
his undying soul. The motive, I grant, may be 
good, so far as a mistaken tenderness and hu- 
manity may deserve this appellation : but who 



WHITE LIES. 



303 



that knows any thing about human nature, or 
has turned over the pages of history, or has 
moved about in society with his eyes open, has 
yet to learn that some of the worst evils and 
worst crimes to which we are liable, spring from 
perversion and abuse of the best feelings? 

It only remains for me to say one word of what 
are often regarded as lies of high expediency and 
necessity. We have nothing to do here with 
stratagems in war, which are not so much lies as 
surprises ; no confidence is violated. But where 
confidence is violated, it is by no means clear that 
any degree of expediency, even of moral expedi- 
ency, or that any pressure of necessity, will author- 
ize or excuse a conscious departure from the law 
of truth. Undoubtedly it is perfectly natural that 
a good man should desire to keep up the spirits 
of those who are acting with him in what he 
holds to be a righteous cause ; but if this cannot 
be done except by means of false pretences, it is 
better that their spirits should flag. Viewed in 
the light of expediency alone, he will find, I 
suspect, in the long run, not only that truth is 
better than boasting, but that truth is better 
than immediate or apparent success. Again, it 
is perfectly natural that a man should wish to 
preserve his life, nay, that he should think it 
expedient to do so, even though at some ex- 



304 



WHITE LIES. 



pense of sincerity ; and this, too, not from pri- 
vate but from public considerations, out of 
regard to the important services he may in that 
event be able to render the cause of truth and 
humanity. Is it certain, however, that he can- 
not do more to build up that cause by dying for 
it in good faith, without any stain on his honor 
or purity, than by living for it and laboring for 
it under the reproach of a tarnished name ? Who 
does not know that the Church, for one example, 
actually gained more in influence and power from 
the blood of the holy martyrs, than from the more 
wily policy and the more protracted services of her 
temporizing friends ? Nor is it to be forgotten 
that the threatened evils, to be averted by the lie, 
ought never to be set down as certain. The open 
and fearless avowal of the truth commands respect, 
inspires awe, even among bad men ; and the intre- 
pidity of one's behavior in making this avowal, the 
sobriety and dignified moderation of his courage, 
and the reasonableness of his expostulations may 
be such as to disarm a fiend. 

But it is not given to all men to be heroes; 
hence we should be slow to judge one another in 
these high requisitions. It is enough to say that 
the general plea for lies of expediency and lies of 
necessity should be questioned at every step. It 
is to dishonor the character and government of 



WHITE LIES. 



305 



God, to suppose that he has made it expedient 
or necessary in the constitution of the universe, 
that men should lie, thus requiring in his works 
what he has forbidden in his Word. It is possible 
that good men may occasionally fall into this 
error, and still be entitled to be regarded as 
good men ; but they are not perfect men. To 
prove this, take the perfect character of Jesus, — - 
suppose him, in any case whatever, to have re- 
sorted to falsehood or artifice, either to save his 
own life or that of his friends, to avert any calam- 
ity however formidable, or to hasten the triumph 
of his cause, though that cause was the salvation 
of the world: who does not perceive that it would 
sink immeasurably the veneration now inspired by 
his spotless and peerless virtue ? 

We may be unable effectually to promote a 
worthy object except by some sacrifice of truth 
and sincerity. If so, then it is certain that God 
does not call on us to aid in that work, and we 
should leave it to other and more suitable agents 
whom God will raise up in his own time. Om- 
nipotence can accomplish its eternal purposes with- 
out our help ; certainly without the help of our 
sins. Let us put more trust in God. If we would 
put more trust in God, we should find occasion to 
put less trust in ourselves, and less still in the 
world, and none at all in lies. 

t 1851-1857. 



306 HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 



XVIII. 



HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 




"So the sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and hasted not to go doum 



EVERAL Hebrew books are referred to by 



the sacred writers, which are now lost. 
Among these is the book of Jasher, being, as 
the name would seem to import, a collection of 
odes or ballads in which the exploits of the great 
men of antiquity were celebrated. One of them 
appears to have contained a highly poetical de- 
scription of the victory which Joshua gained over 
the five confederate kings ; in the course of which 
he is represented as commanding the sun to stand 
still : and it obeyed him. 

Many of the best scholars, Catholic as well as 
Protestant, agree in making this passage signify 
that the defeat which the Hebrews inflicted on 
the Canaanites was as great as if the sun had 



about a whole day." — Joshua x. 13. 




HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 307 



stopped in the midst of heaven, and had thus 
prolonged the day to twice its usual length. 
This construction of the narrative may be cor- 
rect, or not ; at any rate it suggests, as a fit 
topic for discourse at the commencement of 
another year, the only way in which we can 
make the sun stand still. The amount of work 
accomplished by us must be as great as if it had 
stood still. Our days on earth were numbered 
from the beginning : many of them are finished ; 
if, however, from this time we double our dili- 
gence in what we have to do, it will have the 
effect to make each remaining day twice as long. 
In other words, it will be the same in effect as if 
Joshua's miracle were repeated, in respect to us, 
every day. 

To enter into the truth and full significancy of 
this statement, it will be necessary to consider for 
a moment the nature of time itself, and the cus- 
tomary modes of measuring time. 

You remember the old reply to the question, 
What is time ? " If you do not ask me, I know," 
The same might be said of many other things, 
and for the same reason. It is because the com- 
mon occasions of life make us familiar with them 
under some of their aspects, and we mistake this 
familiarity for knowledge until called upon to 
state what we know. Thus everybody is familiar 



308 HOW TO MAKE TEE SUN STAND STILL. 



with time under some of its aspects, and this 
familiarity with it is mistaken for a proper and 
full understanding of it. We think we know it 
already, and this conceit hinders us from even 
so much as trying to obtain profounder views. 
In saying this, I do not mean that men are 
bound to trouble themselves with metaphysical 
subtilties on this subject or on any other ; but 
it will not do, under color of the common preju- 
dice against metaphysics, to reject and disown all 
serious and profound thought. There is, I be- 
lieve, a great deal of superficial living, which has 
its origin in superficial thinking. Thus much at 
least is plain, that we should seek to extend our 
knowledge of the nature of time if it can be 
shown to be of importance in any way to faith or 
morals, and especially if we find aid and encour- 
agement in doing so, in the Word of God. 

The first general remark which I have to make 
respecting time is, that, according to Scripture as 
well as reason, it is not the same to God as it is 
to men : he is not subject to it, as we are. " But, 
beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that 
one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, 
and a thousand years as one day." By reason 
of the limitations of the human mind we are 
unable to consider more than one thing at once ; 
so that, if many things are to be considered, they 



HOW TO MAKE TEE SUN STAND STILL. 309 



must be considered one after another ; that is, 
successively: and succession supposes what we 
call time. All events exist therefore to the hu- 
man mind subject to the conditions and laws 
of time ; but we have no right to conclude that 
this holds true of a being who has none of our 
limitations, — of an absolute and infinite being 
like God. What we apprehend successively, he 
grasps at once, — the past, the present, and the 
future ; for it is no more certain that he exists at 
once, in every point of space, than it is that he 
exists at once in every instant of duration : and 
therefore it is said of him that he inhabiteth 
eternity. 

Of course we cannot conceive how this can be, 
because we, in our modes of immediate existence 
and knowledge, are limited to the present, to the 
here and the now; but we must not presume to 
impose our limitations on God, or make our neces- 
sities the standard of his. The fact itself which 
this doctrine teaches, we can understand, and this 
is all we are called upon to believe ; and so much 
it is of great practical moment that we should 
believe. For it shows the vanity of the sinner's 
hope, who counts on the long delays of the divine 
justice as a ground of immunity or escape. " Be- 
cause sentence against an evil work is not executed 
speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is 



310 HOW TO MAKE TEE SUN STAND STILL. 



fully set in them to do evil." This could hardly 
be if they remembered that what is a long time 
to us is not so to God ; or, in other words, that 
his measures of time are not like ours. We meas- 
ure one time by another ; he measures all times by 
eternity. With him therefore one day must be as 
a thousand years, and a thousand years as one 
day ; so that what seems to us to be separated 
by long intervals, by long delays, is to him but 
the constant, eternal, ever-present unfolding of his 
immutable purpose. 

The second general remark which I have to 
make in this connection is, that, even for us, there 
are no absolute measures of time ; that is to say, 
no time which is absolutely short or absolutely 
long. Here, again, it is the same with time as 
it is with space ; there being no absolutely great, 
no absolutely small, space. "If" — to borrow a 
familiar illustration — "any one were to affirm that 
the universe was continually growing less and 
less, all the parts altering in the same proportion, 
and the dimensions of the human race with the 
rest, in such manner that the whole solar system 
would now go into a nut-shell, such as nut-shells 
were a thousand years ago, — it would be impos- 
sible either for him to prove it, if true, or for 
any one else to prove the contradiction, if false. 
In like manner, if any one were to say that the 



HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 311 



revolutions of all the heavenly bodies were contin- 
ually accelerating, but that the properties of mat- 
ter were also continually altering, and the speed 
with which ideas are formed and communicated, 
and muscular efforts made, continually increasing, 
— it would be impossible to prove a contradiction." 
It would seem, therefore, that there is no abso- 
lute standard to which we can appeal, in our 
measurements of time. We sometimes say that 
a day is a day, or that a year is a year, whether 
much or little takes place in it, whether we can 
give any account of it or not ; but this does not 
follow. After all, a day or a year is not a meas- 
ure of time, properly so called, but of a series of 
events, of a definite series of events, which might 
be quickened or retarded to any extent without 
our knowing or suspecting it, provided only that 
all other events were quickened or retarded in 
the same proportion. We sometimes pass whole 
days and years in a dream, yet find on waking, 
that we have been asleep but a few minutes, as 
measured b}^ the clock. This is commonly ac- 
counted for, I know, by saying that in the dream 
we mistake thoughts for events ; but who will 
assure us that the events themselves might not 
be crowded into the same space, supposing all 
other things to be adjusted to this new ratio of 
speed. 



312 HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 



But it is not necessary to dwell in these tran- 
scendental regions. It is enough if we have seen 
that the common divisions of time are " as noth- 
ing " in the sight of God, and that they have no 
absolute value even with men. 

My next general remark is, that in our practi- 
cal estimates of time, and in common conversation, 
we call the same period long or short according to 
the subject with which it is connected or com- 
pared. Thus, to live fourscore years is a long 
life now, but it would have been a short one, 
mere childhood, among the antediluvians. Fifty 
years make a large portion of the life of a man, 
but would not be accounted much in the life of 
a nation ; so the history of a dynasty or an empire. 
A thousand years are a long period even in the 
history of nations and empires, but would be re- 
garded as a short one, as a mere day, in the 
history of the earth itself, or of the solar system, 
or of the stellar universe. Accordingly in the 
Mosaic account of the creation, the "days" are 
thought by some to stand for geological eras, each 
one of which is supposed to have consisted of 
countless myriads of centuries. 

But I need not multiply arguments and illustra- 
tions to prove, that, whenever we speak of a long 
time or a short time, it is comparatively, and not 
absolutely. One thing, however, in this connec- 



HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 313 



tion, is particularly worthy of note. The period 
of discipline and preparation is always short in 
comparison with the period of maturity and enjoy- 
ment. Speaking generally and practically, our 
whole success in this life depends on fidelity dur- 
ing the half-a-dozen years in which we are fitting 
ourselves for it. I do not mean that there are no 
labors and trials afterwards, but fidelity during 
these few years will prepare us to meet such 
labors and trials ; for it is the business of educa- 
tion to determine, not only what a man will be, 
but what he will do. Still more obvious and 
impressive is this difference, when we consider 
the present life as a preparation for the life to 
come. Has it never crossed your mind, with 
what unspeakable agony the lost soul will see at 
last, that, by fidelity during a feiv short years of 
probation, it might have secured a whole eternity 
of holiness and bliss ? 

Thus far I have spoken of time and its common 
measurements in their relations to mankind. I 
pass, in the next place, to speak of them in their 
relations to the individual. 

Whatever time may be in itself, or whatever it 

may be to others, it is nothing to me if unattended 

by conscious thought. Of this, considered strictly 

as a physiological fact, there is abundant evidence 

in cases of sound sleep, of swoons, and of injuries, 
14 



314 HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 

occasioning a long-continued suspension of con- 
sciousness. Accordingly it is no objection to the 
doctrine of what is called " The Sleep of the Soul," 
whether that doctrine be well or ill founded in 
other respects, to say that it separates life by a 
vast interval from its retributions ; for if a person 
were really to sleep, with a perfect suspension of 
all mental operations, from this time until a gen- 
eral resurrection of the dead, the whole of that 
period would appear to him, and would be to him, 
but an instant. Hence it would seem to follow, as 
regards the individual at least, that time is not the 
measure of life, but life is the measure of time ; 
so that, if we would know how long he has lived, 
we must ascertain how much he has done. 

To this it may be objected, that time never 
seems so short as when we are most busily en- 
gaged, and the succession of our thoughts is the 
quickest ; as in exciting scenes, or in interesting 
company and conversation. Here the fallacy con- 
sists in confounding a sense of the rapid passage 
of time with a sense that not much is passing. In 
the circumstances just mentioned, the time seems 
to be shorter in passing ; but when it is passed, and 
we are able to look back upon it, and see it alto- 
gether, and so can apply a measure to the whole, 
it seems to be longer. Thus on a journev, the 
mind being occupied by a constant succession of 



HOW TO MAKE TEE SUN STAND STILL. 315 

diverting objects, the time seems very short while- 
passing, very long in retrospect ; and the same is 
true of the whole of life when it resembles such a 
journey. A clay filled with twenty good deeds 
does not drag like a day which has witnessed only 
one ; but the amount of satisfaction actually 
enjoyed by us in the course of it, is twenty times 
as great, and it is felt in the retrospect to be 
twenty times as long. I repeat it, therefore ; life, 
true life, is not measured by the motion of the 
heavenly bodies, nor by the motion of the index 
on the dial-plate of the clock, but by the aggregate 
of what we have thought and done. He who has 
lived much, has lived long. In the calendar of 
heaven, " honorable age is not that which stancleth 
in length of time, nor that is measured by number 
of years ; but wisdom is the gray hair unto men, 
and an unspotted life is old age." 

Who is there whose life does not bear testimony 
to the truth of the doctrine here advanced ? Who 
is there, who, in great emergencies, has never had 
a single day so crowded with useful and virtuous 
activity, that, when night came on, he felt that he 
had lived to some purpose, and looking back on it 
afterwards has been more than once disposed to 
exclaim, " Oh, that all my days were such " ? Do 
you wish to know how this prayer may be fulfilled ? 
Simply by doing for yourselves what, in the cases 



316 HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 



referred to, the emergency did for you. The 
emergency has revealed us to ourselves. It has 
awakened in us powers and capacities which we 
did not know before that we possessed ; but we 
now know that we possess them, and that we can 
put them forth at will. What therefore a pressure 
from without has made us do once or twice, we 
should make ourselves do continually by pressure 
from within, — the untiring urgency of a quickened 
conscience, a lofty purpose, and an immortal hope. 
In this respect the children of light would do well 
to take a lesson from the children of this world. 
When ambition or avarice takes entire possession 
of the soul, it does not act like an occasional emer- 
gency ; neither is the influence which it exerts 
of the nature of a pressure from without : it is a 
perpetual pressure from within, stimulating those 
who feel it to incessant effort. They rest not day 
and night, crowding the work of years into 
months, and so turning months into years. " Now 
they do it to obtain a corruptible crown ; " might 
not, ought not we to do as much " to obtain an in- 
corruptible " ? 

All the preceding observations tend therefore 
to this ; that the common distinctions, and the 
common notation of time are of comparative un- 
importance to an earnest and determined mind. 
Holy thoughts and good deeds, and not the 



HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 317 

pendulum of the clock, determine the measure of 
a life approved and accepted of God. 

" He most lives, 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best." 

Tried by this standard, how is it with you and 
me ? When the year which has just closed, began, 
we had so much to do, and but so much time in 
which to do it. The year has gone ; has a year's 
work been done ? or have we suffered the work to 
accumulate on our hands? Have we done as much 
as we thought we should do, or as we meant to do ? 
I am afraid there is not one among us all who can 
answer this question to his own entire satisfaction ; 
or, if he can, I am afraid that the satisfaction itself 
is evidence that he has made no progress. Have 
you entirely mastered and corrected a single bad 
habit, a single bad propensity, a single infirmity 
of temper ? Can you remember many instances in 
which you have borne provocation without malice, 
generously forgiven the wrong-doer, and overcome 
evil with good? Have you been ready to assist 
the needy, not only when it was easy to do so, but 
also when it called for self-denial and sacrifice ? 
Can you remember a single friend or associate, 
who, as you have reason to believe, owes a single 
virtue to your example or your counsels ? Let an 
awakened and an enlightened conscience pursue 
these inquiries, and the best of us would soon be 



818 HOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAXD STILL. 



convinced — perhaps the best of us would soonest 
be convinced — of how small a portion of the past 
year we can give a good and perfectly satisfactory 
account. Are you sure that all the good you have 
done in the twelve months might not have been 
crowded into a single week, or a single day? If it 
might have been, then remember that, according 
to the only measure of time which we know in 
heaven, the twelve months shrivel up into that 
brief space. You have not lived a year ; you have 
only lived a week, or, it may be, a day. 

From the past let us now turn to the future, — 
from the year that has just closed to that which 
has just begun. If a large proportion of the great 
and solemn work of life still remains to be accom- 
plished in the ever narrowing term allotted us on 
earth, we may be tempted to cry out with the 
Hebrew chieftain in the hot pursuit of a half- 
vanquished foe, " Sun ! stand thou still ! " Vain 
and presumptuous expectation, if we look for its 
literal fulfilment ! The lights which God has set 
in the firmament of heaven, to "be for signs, and 
for seasons, and for days and years," will hold on 
their course. What then can we do ? It is often 
said that the formation of character is a slow work. 
If so, this is not a reason for being slow to begin ; 
it is a motive for despatch. It used to be a common 
supposition that, where thirteen persons met at a 



HOW TO MAKE TEE SUN STAND STILL. 319 



feast, one of the number might be expected to die 
within the year. How much more certain that, 
before another annual revolution is completed, more 
than one of the number here present, and those 
perhaps who least expect it, will be summoned 
to give account of themselves to God. On the 
great and awful themes here involved, — God, 
Christ, the soul, retribution, eternity, — I do not 
think that the speculations of the wisest uninspired 
man are worth much. I turn to the Scriptures ; 
and here I think I find that the only probation 
expressly allotted to man is the probation of this 
life. Without necessarily implying that the future 
state is a fixed state either to the good or the bad, 
it seems to me that the doctrine nevertheless is, 
that we choose sides here, with no reason to expect 
that we shall have either the disposition or the 
opportunity to change sides hereafter. Under the 
pressure of this infinitely momentous alternative, I 
ask again, What shall we do? 

Though we cannot make the sun stand still in 
the midst of heaven, we can do what, as we have 
seen, will be the same in effect. By putting the 
work of two days into one, we can make one day 
equal to two. By crowding the year that is before 
us with generous purposes, and virtuous efforts, 
and noble sacrifices, we can make it equal to twenty 
years of ordinary life. It is sometimes said that 



320 BOW TO MAKE THE SUN STAND STILL. 

the repentance which is to save us, is not the re- 
pentance of a day ; and this is true, if all the 
fruits of repentance are meant to be included. 
But the repentance which consists in a solemn and 
religious change of intention and of heart, which 
supposes an inward and radical change of one's 
whole plan of life, so as to take him out of the 
class of the bad, and put him into the class of the 
good, — this is, or at least maybe, not only the 
repentance of a day, but of an hour : I had almost 
said of a moment, of any moment, — of this 
moment. Afterwards we have nothing to do but 
to go on. If we are living when this year expires, 
consider, I beseech you, what unspeakable satisfac- 
tion it will give us to be assured that we are in the 
right and only safe path ; that the interval has 
been lengthened out to twice, to quadruple, to ten- 
fold its usual dimensions, considered as a meas- 
ure of real life, by the number and excellence of 
the deeds with which it has been filled;, that 
every day has been a step towards heaven. Re- 
member, also, that our enjoyment of this satisfac- 
tion at that time will depend, not on what we 
wish then, but on what we determine, and on what 
we do, now. 

1848-1857. 



ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 321 



XIX. 

ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 
"My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.'" — Proverbs i. 10. 

T T 7HEN a young man falls into evil courses, it 
* is common for Ms friends to find such con- 
solation as they can in the thought that he was led 
astray. His original purposes and dispositions were 
good ; he would have done well enough if left to 
himself ; but he fell into vicious companionships, 
and was led astray. And this is often said in a tone 
which would seem to imply that the victims, in such 
cases, are objects of pity, rather than of blame. 

But is it so ? I do not forget that there are, as 
there always have been, " corrupters of youth," 
men who lie in wait for the innocent and inex- 
perienced in order to entice them into sin. Neither 
do I forget that the strongest language of reproba- 
tion fails adequately to express the guilt of such 
persons. But, if there is sin in enticing, there is 
also sin in yielding to the enticement; nay, my 
object in this discourse will be to show, that the 
14* TJ 



322 ON TEE SIX OF BEIXG LED ASTRAY. 

difference is by no means so great as is commonly 
supposed. 

Those who think to excuse men's delinquencies, 
on the ground that they did not commit them of 
their own accord, but were led into them by others, 
should consider that on this ground all delinquen- 
cies might be excused, — even those of our first 
parents. Adam complained that he was led astray 
by Eve, and Eve, that she was led astray by the 
serpent : but we do not find that the plea was ac- 
cepted, or listened to. in either case. And so it 
has been ever since. Men do not become sinners 
of their own accord, of their own motion, that is 
to say, without being tempted to become so : and 
in almost every instance, the temptation comes, 
directly or indirectly, through other men. We are 
led astray. Nevertheless, our sins are sins. Even 
those who now lead others astray, began by being 
led astray themselves ; so that if this is an excuse 
for either, it is an excuse for both — for all. And 
besides, virtue does not grow up in the absence of 
all euticement to sin, but in the presence and in 
the resistance of such enticement : and it is this 
resistance which makes it to be virtue. 

Look again at the nature of this excuse. " They 
would have done well enough if left to them- 
selves, because they started in life with good pur- 
poses and dispositions."' But when this is urged, 



ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 323 



I am afraid that, in a vast majority of cases, their 
purposes and dispositions are called good merely 
because thej r are not bad ; or rather, perhaps, be- 
cause they have no fixed purposes and dispositions 
of any kind. And here there is no occasion to 
take the ground of high and unreasonable expec- 
tations. We do not expect men to start in life 
with a fixed character ; for character is made up of 
habits, and the formation of habits is the work of 
time. All that we expect or have a right to insist 
upon is, that every one should start in life with 
fixed purposes and dispositions ; that is to say, not 
merely with a willingness, but with a strong deter- 
mination, to do well. But if a man is led astray 
by the common enticements incident to human 
trial, it proves that he was without this strong 
determination ; so that the excuse fails. Good- 
natured, he may have been ; but good nature, as 
that term is commonly understood, is much more 
frequently the sign of an easy than of a determined 
mind : and where this is the case, where good nat- 
ure stands for nothing better than ease and pliancy 
of temper, instead of being an excuse for any thing 
else, it needs itself to be excused : at any rate, 
it is evidence of moral infirmity and danger. 

Again ; those who try to find an excuse for their 
delinquencies in the fact that they were led astray 
by others, are apt to exaggerate these enticements, 



324 ON TEE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY, 



as if to intimate that resistance under such circum- 
stances was out of the question. In short, through- 
out the whole of the affair, they take a course per- 
versely opposite to that which prudence and duty 
dictate. While the danger is in prospect, and they 
should be put on their guard against it, they make 
light of it; but after it has come, and done its 
work, they can then see it in all and more than 
all its magnitude, and find there a reason and an 
excuse for their fall. 

In point of fact the danger, except to a com- 
paratively small number, is neither so great, nor so 
imminent, as is generally thought. Let me not be 
misunderstood. We must make distinctions here. 
I do not forget that one of the greatest difficulties 
in Providence is found in the degree to which our 
conduct and characters are left to depend on 
others, while we ourselves are made to suffer the 
consequences in this world and the next. But the 
influence, and often the controlling influence, which 
other men have OA T er our conduct and characters, 
is, for the most part, general and indirect. That is 
to say, it comes for the most part through a bad or 
neglected education, through a perverted or low 
state of public opinion, through the prevalence 
and perhaps the popularity of corrupting customs 
and institutions, and the like ; and not through a 
direct instigation to particular sins. 



ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 325 



When any one yields to such direct instigation, 
it proves, as it seems to me, one of two things ; 
either that he is more than usually weak-minded, 
or that he has a strong natural proclivity in the 
same direction. Consider how it is where large 
numbers are thrown together, and are under the 
necessity of living together for a considerable time. 
They immediately fall into distinct associations 
and companionships, according to their several 
tastes and habits : the great, majority, as we are 
willing to believe, to follow out plans of usefulness 
or pleasure which they have chosen for themselves ; 
a few to be led about, and made fools of, by any 
one who will take the trouble to do it ; and who 
these few are, can generally be determined before 
they have been together six weeks. 

I might go farther, and say that bad men seldom 
try to lead astray any except those who show be- 
forehand a willingness to be thus led. We are 
apt to make men of loose principles and dissipated 
habits worse than they really are. They are not 
monsters ; they are still men, and have many, at 
least, of the feelings and sentiments natural to 
men. They may be, and probably are, unduly dis- 
posed to suspect appearances ; they have no respect 
for hypocrisy, and exult in its exposure : but when- 
ever they meet with an example of modest and 
consistent virtue, they do not, and they cannot, 



326 ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 



resist the instinctive tendency of their nature to 
admire it. When these men read history, the 
characters whom they most admire are the same 
whom good men most admire ; — not the triflers 
and profligates of the day, that is, the men who 
most resemble themselves, but the heroes, and, high 
above all, the moral heroes. With such feelings it 
is hardly to be supposed that they would deliber- 
ately plot the ruin of the very persons, whom in 
common with the rest of the community, they sin- 
cerely respect and revere. 

But, it may be said, there are worse men than 
these; and so there are, — fiends in human shape, 
who would take perhaps a satanic delight in the 
fall, if it were possible, " of the very elect." Few 
however, as I suppose all will agree, attain to this 
pitch of wickedness. They are monsters; and what 
have the well disposed to do with monsters, known 
as such, except to avoid them ? " Surely in vain the 
net is spread in the sight of any bird." It is not by 
monsters in crime that the innocent and inexperi- 
enced are most in danger of being led astray, at 
least in the first instance, but by those who have 
as yet proceeded only a little way in crime ; whose 
crime consists, for the most part, in an uncontrolled 
love of ease and pleasure, gilded over with compan- 
ionable qualities, and sometimes by real kindness of 
heart. These are the dangerous men; but clanger- 



ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 327 



ous to whom ? In the case of such tempters it is 
idle, as I have said, to talk about a satanic purpose 
to corrupt virtue, as virtue. What motive is there- 
fore left to induce them to take the trouble to lead 
another astray, but this ; that they see in him con- 
genial propensities, — a strong natural tendency 
to the same pleasures and unlawful gratifications; 
and this tendency they may help to develop a lit- 
tle sooner, though it probably would have been 
developed sooner or later without their aid. 

I come therefore to these three conclusions. In 
the first place, a large proportion of those who are 
led astray are led astray by themselves, by their own 
evil thoughts ; in the language of Scripture, " they 
are drawn away of their own lust, and enticed." 
Sometimes the temptation does not take the form 
of a natural taste or inclination for the vice itself, 
but that of a morbid curiosity to know what the vice 
is ; yet in the latter case, as well as in the former, 
they are led astray by themselves, by their own evil 
thoughts. In the second place, a large proportion 
of those who are led away by others, purposely put 
themselves in the way of it ; the bad compairy do 
not seek them out, but they seek out the bad 
company. They know, as well as others, that 
the community consists of two sorts of persons, 
the safe and the dangerous, the industrious and the 
idle, the virtuous and the vicious ; and, knowing 



328 ON TEE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 



this, they nevertheless voluntarily connect them- 
selves with the obnoxious class. As a geueral rule, 
therefore, they can hardly be said to be led away 
by the wicked ; they join the wicked, differing from 
older transgressors in this only, that they were the 
last to join, — not veterans, but recruits. And, 
in the third and last place, the very fact that an 
attempt is made to lead a man astray is strong 
evidence against him. Men of unquestionable 
probity and moral inflexibleness are never spoken 
to, are never thought of, in this connection. The 
emissaries of evil know what they are about : they 
seldom approach any but such as they are con- 
vinced, by almost infallible signs, will turn out easy 
and willing victims. Hence it is a bad sign, I do 
not say merely that a man should be led astray, 
but that he should be singled out for this pur- 
pose ; that his virtue should be even so much as 
attempted, is proof that all is not right. 

Still it cannot be denied that melancholy cases 
do occur from time to time, in which persons, 
merely through ignorance and inexperience, are 
led astray by artful and designing men, — persons, 
too, who, under other influences and in other com- 
panionships, might have succeeded in life, and be- 
come useful and perhaps distinguished members 
of society. Nothing should be left undone which 
will help to save such persons ; above all, they 



ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 329 



should be conjured to consider, before it is too 
late, the weakness, the guilt, and the ruin which 
consenting to be led astray involves. 

Consider, in the first place, the weakness which 
such conduct supposes and involves. Moral 
strength, that is, the strength which is the 
opposite to the weakness here intended, con- 
stitutes what is called personality ; it makes the 
distinction between a person and a thing, between 
a self-active, self-determining being, and one who 
moves only as he is moved. Some there are who 
manifest so little of this strength, as almost to 
leave us in doubt under which head they ought 
to be classed ; they are never among the leaders, 
but always among the led ; they are not so much 
persons as things, that is, appendages to per- 
sons. And here it is to no purpose to object that 
only a few can lead ; the rest must follow : that 
the great majority in every community, from the 
necessities of their condition, or from want of 
information or natural ability, must follow. Cer- 
tainly they must ; but what has that to do with 
the subject in hand ? There is a world of differ- 
ence between following a man because we choose 
to follow him, and being led by him because he 
chooses to lead us. There is also a world of differ- 
ence between following others because we think 
they will lead us aright, our own judgment ap- 



330 ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 



proving the course, and following others when we 
know or suspect they will lead us astray, our own 
judgment disapproving the course. The only inde- 
pendence I am contending for here, is moral inde- 
pendence ; an independence which refuses to follow 
when reason and prudence and conscience say, No ! 
And this independence may exist, and does exist, in 
all classes ; nay, is quite as often found in the hum- 
blest classes as the highest, among the uneducated 
as among the educated. 

What I insist upon is, that a want of this inde- 
pendence, wherever met with, betrays the worst 
form of weakness. We call a man morally weak, 
who is led astray by his own passicns ; and so he 
is, for it shows that, however strong he is in him- 
self, his passions are stronger still : he is weak 
relatively to his own passions. But a man who 
is led astray by other men shows that he is weak 
in himself, absolutely weak. This distinction must 
be taken into account in making up our judgment 
respecting many of the leading characters in his- 
tory. Such men as Caesar and Cromwell and Na- 
poleon were not strong in the sense of having the 
mastery over their own passions, but in that of 
having the mastery of every thing else. They 
owed their ascendancy, not more to the power 
they had over others, than to the fact that others 
had no power over them in return ; this circum- 



ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 331 



stance giving a unity and persistence to their pur- 
pose, which made success almost certain. And so 
in business, so in scholarship, so in every walk and 
pursuit of life ; one of the great secrets of personal 
and successful efficiency is found in making our- 
selves inaccessible to the influence of others any 
farther than we choose. It is only in this con- 
dition that we are safe against being turned aside 
from our own plans, against being laughed out of 
our own seriousness, against losing our own cour- 
age in the general distrust or timidity. We must 
be true to ourselves, whatever others may do or 
say. Just so far as we fall from this moral inde- 
pendence, we fall into pitiable weakness, — a weak- 
ness which not only supposes frailty, the frailty 
common to all, but a loss of proper personality, 
the loss of proper manhood. We become the 
shadows, the echoes, the tools of other men, and 
so are liable at any moment to become their dupes 
and victims. 

Consider, in the next place, the guilt which is 
involved in being led astray. Guilt, as I have 
intimated before, does not consist in sinning in 
the absence of all temptation. Probably no such 
sin was ever yet committed by man or fiend ; it 
would be to act without a motive. Sin and guilt 
consist in yielding to temptation. " If sinners 
entice you," it will doubtless acid to the tempta- 



332 ON TEE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 



tion, and so make it more likely that you will 
commit the sin ; but it does not make the sin any 
the less a sin, either in its nature or consequences. 
But some will ask, If another man inveigles me 
into crime, is not he in some sense responsible for 
the crime ? Certainly he is. It is remarkable of 
a crime committed by one person at the instiga- 
tion of another, that two persons are guilty of it, 
and two persons will have to answer for it. But 
the question will still be pressed, Is not the in- 
stigator in this case unspeakably the more guilty 
of the two ? And here, too, I answer as before, 
Certainly he is, if guilt is to be measured by wicked- 
ness of purpose in the outset. But this is not the 
only or the best way of estimating the moral harm 
incurred by wrong-doing. The best and only legiti- 
mate gauge of the gravity of a transgression is found, 
not in the state of mind in which it is committed, 
but in the state of mind which it produces in those 
who commit it. What and how much effect does 
it have in retarding, arresting, or reversing our 
moral progress ? Tried by this test, I suspect it 
will often appear that the led are more thoroughly 
demoralized than the leaders. The reason is that 
the leaders are generally men of some strength of 
mind, and can stop when they please in a course 
of self-indulgence ; often also their ambition and 
better instincts help to hold their love of pleasure 



ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 333 



in check. But not so with their imbecile dupes 
and victims. Hence it not infrequently happens 
that the very person who was the first to lead 
another astray, who taught him his first lessons in 
crime, soon becomes ashamed of his follower, and 
disgusted with his excesses, and. casts him off. 

It only remains for me to speak of the ruin 
which men bring on themselves by yielding to 
the enticement of sinners. Here, unhappily, there 
can be but one opinion. We may differ as to the 
share of guilt incurred by those who are not the 
originators, but merely the instruments and tools, 
in the mischief ; our pity for their weakness may 
also clo much to blind us to their criminality ; but 
we cannot shut our eyes on the reality of the dis- 
tress they bring on their friends, or the final and 
utter ruin they bring on themselves. How often 
have we been told that our prisons are filled, not 
only by those who contrived the wrong and per- 
haps profited by it, but by those whom they used 
as instruments and tools to carry their purposes 
into effect ! The leaders escape ; the followers 
are disgraced and punished. And so in respect to 
the fashionable views of society. Who are they 
who suffer most from these in the loss of property, 
reputation, and health ? Not the leaders, who 
commonly know how to keep themselves out of 
the worst dangers and the worst excesses, but 



334 ON THE SIN OF BEING LED ASTRAY. 



their unwary and facile followers ; — followers, 
too, who sometimes have no taste for a dissipated 
life and find no real pleasure in it, but yet are 
willing to plant unspeakable anguish in the hearts 
of all who love them, and bring a fatal blight on 
their own prospects, merely for the honor of being 
noticed and flattered by dangerous and profligate 
men. 

Would to God that what I have said might have 
the effect to put a single unwary soul on its guard 
against this peril ! As has been intimated before, 
in every place, in every community, the associations 
and companionships are of two kinds, — the safe 
and the dangerous. There are men whose pres- 
ence is a blessing and a benediction ; whose com- 
pany and conversation have the effect to confirm 
our faith, to strengthen all our good purposes, 
and fill the future with bright visions of honor, 
success, and usefulness. Again, there are those in 
whose company you cannot be for half an hour 
without feeling that virtue has gone out of you ; 
" their feet go down to death, their steps take 
hold on hell." You are to make your choice be- 
tween them ; and remember, it is for your life ! 

]855. 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 335 



XX. 

THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LDJE. 

A BACCALAUREATE SERMON. 

"And he dreamed yet another dream, and told it his brethren, and said, 
Behold, I have dreamed a dream more ; and, behold, the sun and the 
moon and the eleven stars made obeisance to me. And he told it to 
his father, and to his brethren : and his father rebuked him, and said 
unto him, What is this dream that thou hast dreamed ? Shall I and 
thy mother and thy brethren indeed come to bow down ourselves to thee 
to the earth ? And his brethren envied him ; but his father observed 
the saying." — Genesis xxxvii. 9, 10, 11. 

TTUMAN nature is substantially the same now 
as in the days of the Hebrew patriarch. 
What is related of Joseph, — his father's manifest 
partiality, the fine clothes, and, above all, the two 
vain-glorious dreams, as they must have seemed at 
the time, — would be too much for the patience of 
most elder brethren. The bowing of the sheaves 
was bad enough ; but when he dreamed again, and 
made not only " the eleven stars," that is, all his 
brethren, who, with one exception, were consider- 
ably older than he, but also "the sun and moon," 



336 THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 



that is, his father and mother, do him obeisance, it 
was too much even for the doting fondness of 
Jacob himself. Accordingly we are told that " his 
father rebuked him, and said unto him, What is 
this dream that thou hast dreamed ? Shall I and 
thy mother, and thy brethren, indeed come to bow- 
down ourselves to thee to the earth ? " 

The bold and confident aspirations of the strip- 
ling, as he stood in the family group, and told his 
dreams with so much simplicity, and we are tempted 
to add with so much imprudence, must have of- 
fended against Oriental notions of propriety even 
more than they would against ours. In the East, 
to the present day, immobility reigns ; the future 
is expected to be merely a repetition of the past : 
experience, therefore, is wisdom, is every thing ; 
age is looked up to with reverence; elders is 
another name for rulers. But with us it is not 
so. Among the Western nations, and especially 
among those of the race to which we belong, there 
has grown up from small beginnings a spirit of prog- 
ress. Truth and right are looked for, not in the 
past, but in the future ; and under the influence of 
this habit of thought, popularized and made univer- 
sal, we cannot wonder that what is called the spirit 
of progress should often degenerate into a passion 
for change and reform. Some writers are fond of 
charging the whole movement, with all its good 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 337 



and all its evil issues, on the Protestant Reforma- 
tion ; but they mistake one of the effects of the 
cause for the cause itself. The movement began 
long before, and the Protestant Reformation was 
neither more nor less than one of its important 
results. And it is still going on. Reactions there 
have been, and will be, on the surface; but the 
deep under-currents are the same as heretofore, 
betraying themselves, when excessive, in contempt 
for every thing that is old, in disdain for experi- 
ence and for the wisdom derived from experience. 
Hence, there is but too much ground for the com- 
plaint of one of the most liberal and just thinkers 
of the present century, that "the young man of 
to-day measures himself with the man of many 
years ; before his school-days are over, the boy 
thinks and declares himself equal to his sire. This 
notion of equality of minds is carried so far that 
the judgment of eighteen has as much authority as 
that of fifty ; and the reasoning of a day -laborer, 
on a question of policy, is considered as decisive 
as that of a statesman whose whole life has been 
passed in the midst of public affairs, or of a student 
grown gray in thought." 

But there are two important considerations which 
the persons who are fond of dwelling on this topic 
are apt to overlook. In the first place, they forget 
how differently young men are educated now than 
15 v 



338 THE YOUNG MANS DREAM OF LIFE. 



formerly. Education, meaning thereby artificial 
and systematic education, is not intended to supply 
the place of natural ability, or to train minds which 
otherwise would not be trained at all; but simply 
to facilitate and expedite this training, and make it 
more thorough and comprehensive. Thus under- 
stood, it may be said in a certain sense, and to a 
certain extent, to be a substitute for experience : 
the thoroughly educated man is, in some respects, 
as old at twenty-one, as the uneducated at thirty 
or thirty-five. Why wonder, then, that he should 
speak and act, as if he were as old ? Why deliber- 
ately apply these forcing processes, and afterwards 
affect to wonder and complain at the obvious 
and necessary result ? Why multiply the arts of 
bringing forward and pushing forward } r oung men 
into society, and afterwards affect to wonder and 
complain at finding them where you have chosen 
to put them ? Again, it is to be considered that, 
in this country at least, many of the objects and 
pursuits, which once took up and occupied the 
exuberant ambition and activity of young men, 
have failed almost entirely. Only a very few can 
go into the army : the well educated are not busily 
engaged here, as in some other countries, in mak- 
ing their way at court : neither is there demand 
here for that high refinement, for that elaborate 
though superficial culture, which is expected in an 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 339 



aristocratical constitution of society. What, then, 
are our young men to do ? Failing other objects 
of interest, is it at all wonderful that they should 
turn to politics or reform ? that they should mix 
with their elders in important social action, or un- 
dertake to act by themselves, though at the risk of 
sometimes intermeddling with matters beyond their 
years ? 

However this may be, it is certainly natural that 
those who are just entering on life, and those who 
are soon to quit it, should differ in their views of 
life itself. The reason is, that the latter know 
what life is ; they know it through and through, 
from actual experience ; they know its early prom- 
ises, and how far these promises are likely to be 
fulfilled, and how far unfulfilled. On the contrary, 
those who are just entering on life see but a sin- 
gle phase of it ; the rest is hearsay, theory, conject- 
ure, imagination. Like Joseph, they dream what 
will happen to them : awake or asleep, it matters 
not, still it is a dream, — the young man's dream of 
life. And this is my subject ; not inappropriate, 
as it seems to me, either to the occasion or the 
place. Be assured, however, in the outset, that I 
have not selected this subject with a view to treat 
it lightly, or satirically, or irreverently. I believe 
that the young man's dream of life may come to 
pass, as in the case of Joseph; nay, more, that the 



340 THE YOUNG MAN'S BREAM OF LIFE. 



dream itself often works its own-accomplishment. 
Neither is this all: I believe there is often more 
wisdom, and more dignity, and more humble trust, 
in the young man's dream of life, than in the old 
man's philosophy of life. What I am anxious to 
do is simply this : — to call your attention to a re- 
markable discrepancy in these dreams ; to impress 
you with the fact, that, while some of these dreams 
are true to our nature and our destiny, and lead to 
nothing but good, there are others which are false 
to our nature and our destiny, and lead to nothing 
but evil. 

To the last-mentioned class belongs the dream of 
a life of ease and pleasure and self-indulgence. 

The great law which applies to other dreams 
holds good also here : every man's dream of life 
is shaped and determined, for the most part, by 
his constitutional tendencies, and his antecedent 
habits of thought and experience. For this reason, 
it is chiefly among such as are born to wealth, and 
brought up amidst luxury and abundance, that we 
look for the mistaken anticipations of life of which 
I now speak. Up to the present time, theirs has 
been a life of ease and pleasure and self-indulgence, 
and they are fain to believe that it will be so to the 
end. But they forget, in the first place, the rota- 
tory nature of family fortunes, at least in this 
country. With us, the law of inheritance and the 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DUE AM OF LIFE. 341 



distribution of property are such, that a rich man's 
son can hardly expect any thing more than to 
have his way made easy in the beginning, and to 
be helped a little afterwards ; with the danger, too, 
that this expectation will take just so much from 
his self-reliance, and from his earnest and deter- 
mined preparation to help himself. Even here it 
is not impossible, I know, that a family should con- 
tinue rich through several generations ; but it is 
only on condition that they continue distinguished 
for habits of thrift and frugality, thus excluding 
the thought of a life of ease, pleasure, and self- 
indulgence. Moreover, this is not the rule, but 
the exception to the rule ; the rule is vicissitude ; 
while one goes up, another comes down, not re- 
quiring, as. it has been found by experience, more 
than three, or at most four, generations for the 
wheel to effect an entire revolution. If a class of 
young men, anywhere collected together in this 
country, could look forward to what will be their 
relative social position thirty years from this time, 
it would lead them to attach much less importance 
to what their relative social position is now. 

Assuming, however, that a young man were sure 
to retain the means of a life of ease, pleasure, and 
self-indulgence, he cannot learn too soon that this 
is not the way to happiness, — to true and lasting 
content. Self-indulgence is not self-satisfaction. 



342 THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 



The unwary are misled by a term which does not 
mean what it purports to mean. In point of fact, 
self-indulgence is not the indulgence of self, under- 
standing thereby a man's whole self, but only of a 
part of self : it is not the indulgence of his whole 
nature, but only of part of his nature, and that the 
lowest ; often, also, to the damage, and sometimes 
to the ruin, of his higher nature. What we call 
self-indulgence is not indulgence of self, in any 
proper sense of that word, but rather of this or 
that low or sordid passion which threatens the 
degradation and perhaps the ruin of self ; and it 
is probably the secret consciousness of this fact 
which constitutes that drop of bitterness and self- 
reproach which is always found at the bottom of 
the cup of pleasure. 

Still, the best antidote to dreaming of a life of 
ease, pleasure, and self-indulgence is found in a 
serious and thoughtful glance at its actual results 
in other men. It is not merely that they wake up 
at length, and know it to be a dream; for this is 
no more than what sometimes happens in respect 
to worthy and generous aspirations ; but with a 
most important difference : in the latter case we 
do not regret the dream ; we feel we are the better 
for it. On the other hand, there is no weariness 
and disgust of life like that which gathers over 
the spirits of a broken-down man of pleasure, who 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 343 



has found out, when too late, that his is that laugh- 
ter in which the heart is sorrowful, and his that 
mirth the end of which is heaviness. With no 
relish for vice, and no confidence in virtue, the 
best that can be expected from the old age of 
such a man is a decorous conformity to conven- 
tionalities, for which there is left to him neither 
faith nor heart. One thing, however, he will 
never do, — and what could better illustrate and 
enforce my present argument ? — under no cir- 
cumstances whatever will he recommend it to his 
children to follow in his steps. 

I am not inculcating a new doctrine. You are 
familiar with it as set forth in one of the most im- 
pressive apologues for which we are indebted to 
pagan wisdom : I mean, the Choice of Hercules. 
It has also been confirmed and consecrated, and 
adopted into the higher relations of the Christian 
life, in the account which the gospel gives us of 
our Lord's Temptation in the Wilderness. Both 
belong to a large class of exhortations and exam- 
ples, intended to kindle the imaginations of youth 
in favor of a life of labor for noble objects, and 
against a life of indulgence. But if this is right 
and wise for men in general, it is doubly so for us, 
— for you. In the old world, and under a widely 
different political and social constitution, an order 
of men is found, who are not only raised by birth 



344 THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 



and position above the necessities of labor, but 
surrounded by elegant and refined amusements 
and society, and other objects of interest, to fill 
up their time and supply the place of regular and 
serious occupation. By their numbers, and the 
prestige of rank, they are also able to give a sort 
of dignity to the life they lead, to make it an ob- 
ject of respect, or, at least, of desire or envy. But 
here another state of things prevails. It is doubt- 
less premature to speak of what will be in a remote 
future, but this much is certain : neither our institu- 
tions, nor the general condition of the people, have 
provided as yet for such a class of men. Here, 
therefore, whoever dreams about a life of elegant 
leisure will soon find himself to be out of place ; 
with but little to occupy or interest or grace his 
leisure ; with no privileged order to keep him in 
countenance, indeed almost alone, for if he turns for 
companionship to others as idle as himself, he will 
often have to put up with very poor companion- 
ship. In short, who does not know that in this 
country it is hardly considered respectable to be 
a gentleman, and nothing else? 

Not much better is the young man's dream of a 
life of selfish ambition and ivorldly success. 

The error before described pertains for the most 
part, as I have intimated, to minds naturally irreso- 
lute, and enervated still more by easy and prosper- 



THE YOUNG MAN'S BREAM OF LIFE. 345 



cms circumstances ; that of which I am now to 
speak belongs to persons the very opposite in both 
character and condition. It belongs to men who 
are conscious of their strength ; who chafe under 
the restraints and limitations imposed upon them 
by what they regard as their hard lot ; who cannot 
bear to see others, every way their inferiors except 
in the gifts of fortune, stand higher than they do ; 
who start, therefore, with a determination to re- 
verse this state of things, come what may. And 
this tendency is not necessarily lessened — in some 
respects, indeed, it is stimulated and quickened — 
in an educated young man. The energies which 
before were latent have become apparent ; experi- 
ence and reflection have had the effect to make 
him more keenly alive to the unequal distribution 
of external facilities and advantages, and he is apt 
to say to himself, " I have not only the abilities, 
but also the education, necessary to the struggle. 
I am at the bottom of the ladder now ; but I will 
be at the top before I die, or die in the attempt." 

Now this is a dream ; here as well as elsewhere. 
Nothing is more common than to exaggerate, if not 
entirely to misconceive, the advantages resulting in 
this respect from our free institutions. Liberty, in 
the largest and best sense of that word, is, at least 
in its essential nature, merely a negative, and not a 
positive, good. It takes off restraints ; it removes 
15* 



346 THE YOUNG MAN'S BEE AM OF LIFE. 



obstacles ; it makes it impossible for a single man, 
or a privileged order of men, to hinder the prog- 
ress of society or of individuals, against their will. 
Still it must not be counted on as supplying the 
place of this progress, or of the knowledge, ability, 
and effort necessary thereto. Our free institutions 
do not and cannot work the miracle, or rather the 
contradiction, of making everybody to be first : 
there must still be gradations in society ; so that 
when the boys in a common school are told, as 
they often are, that any one of them may become 
President of the United States, the appeal is not 
only made to a vulgar motive, but the whole is 
founded on a palpable fallacy. Because the way 
to the highest distinctions is open to all, it does 
not follow that the highest distinctions are within 
the reach of all. In the practical working of the 
freest institutions of government and society, the 
great popular advantage is not that the highest dis- 
tinctions are within the reach of all, but that com- 
petency and respectability are within the reach of 
all. And this should satisfy all. To expect more 
is to dream. 

Nevertheless, I do not condemn it merely because 
it is a dream ; nor yet, because it is a dream of 
ambition. Ethical writers have raised the ques- 
tion whether ambition is a virtue or a vice ; but 
simply considered, and strictly speaking, it is nei- 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 347 



ther one nor the other ; not even self-love. Simply 
considered, it is the desire of power, of the power 
which mind has over matter, and over other minds, 
and takes its character of virtue or vice, of selfish- 
ness or philanthropy, according to the purpose and 
spirit by which it is animated. Thus a lawyer, or 
physician, or clergyman may be ambitious of excel- 
lence in his profession, merely with a view to 
greater usefulness in his profession ; in which case 
his ambition does but measure the intensity of his 
desire to do good. Indeed, I cannot see the con- 
sistency, and I am slow to believe in the entire sin- 
cerit} T , of those who talk about wishing to do good, 
and yet fail to manifest, and perhaps affect to dis- 
claim, all wish to enlarge their means of doing 
good. Look at these men, and then deny, if you 
can, that much of what passes for aversion to 
ambition on moral grounds, is but an after-thought 
to excuse a real and culpable indifference or indo- 
lence. Neither the spirit of Christianity, nor the 
letter of Scripture, forbid ambition, considered 
merely as a desire to extend the means, and the 
sphere, of one's influence. We are told, it is true, 
that whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased ; 
and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." 
This language, however, as the connection shows, 
is not intended to rebuke ambition simply con- 
sidered, but selfish ambition, — anxiety for out- 



348 THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 



ward and worldly distinction and success ; — 
precisely the position I have taken above. To 
dream of a life of selfish ambition, of outward 
and worldly distinction and success, is as unwise 
as it is unchristian ; not, however, as I have said, 
because it is a dream, for every anticipation of com- 
ing life is of the nature of a dream, but because it 
is a noxious dream. 

It is so, in the first place, because a 3 r oung man, 
starting under this illusion, is almost sure to forget 
what constitutes true worth ; which consists in 
deserving, and not in obtaining, success. Again, 
it makes success to depend, not upon what he 
does or can do himself, but upon what others think 
of what he does ; thus putting it out of his own 
power, in any proper sense of that word, and look- 
ing for it to the uncertain and ever-shifting caprices 
of the multitude. I am not calling your attention 
to imaginary evils. Travellers assure us that the 
faults or defects in the people of this country, by 
which a foreigner is most struck, are these three : 
— an unmanly solicitude about what their neighbors 
will say : a spirit of unrest, tending to fill the best 
life with petty annoyances, and taking from the 
best character the grace of repose ; and, above all, 
a disposition to estimate every thing, even their 
abilities and virtues, not according to their real, 
but according to their marketable, value. And it 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 349 



is in this community, and amidst these tendencies, 
that your lot is cast, that you are to live and act, 
with a moral certainty of falling into the national 
fault, if you begin by committing the national 
error ; if you begin by looking forward to wealth 
and office, or to leadership ni some clique, or in 
some new movement, as if life had nothing better 
or safer to promise. Notwithstanding the general, 
the almost universal, diffusion of the means of 
material comfort, notwithstanding the boasted and 
real benefits of popular education, and the actual 
prevalence of a higher standard of thought and 
character, it is alleged, and I am afraid with but 
too much reason, that there is less contentment, 
less real happiness here, than in most other coun- 
tries. This does not happen, as some have sup- 
posed, because we aim too high, but because we do 
not aim aright. In laying down our plans of life 
we dream of incongruous things, of things which 
are as uncertain and inconstant as the winds, or 
can only be obtained by means which are destruc- 
tive of peace and self-respect. Leave these things 
to others, who are willing to pay the price for 
them ; who are willing to cringe and fawn and 
crawl. It is enough if you are able to say, and say 
with truth, " I have not these things because I 
sought them not, because I desire them not, because 
I have what is better." 



350 THE YOUNG MAX'S DREAM OF LIFE. 



And this leads me to consider dreams of life of 
another character; which, though dreams, are 
nevertheless true to our nature and destiny, and 
do us nothing but good, whether they ever come 
to pass or not. 

First among these I would mention the young 
man's dream of extensive usefulness, wrought out 
with unsullied honor, and crowned with a good 
name. 

It is highly creditable to human nature, that, 
when men begin to dream of what they are to be 
and do, they almost always picture their future 
course as a highly beneficent one. Call this castle- 
building or what you will, no matter whether it 
ever comes to any thing or not. it proves thus much 
at least : that the first preferences, the natural lean- 
ings of the bulk of mankind, are in favor of what 
is noble and good. But soon, under the experi- 
ences of life, at least in the case of manv. a change 
is apt to come over the spirit of this dream : they 
begin to distrust it. to be ashamed of it, to turn it 
into a jest. When this is the result of repeated 
disappointment, and treachery on the part of others, 
it is more an occasion of pity than rebuke : but not 
so when it takes place in consequence of a decay 
of virtue in the individual himself. In a majority 
of cases, especially among the young, the change 
may be traced. I suspect, to the indurating effects 



THE YOUNG MAX'S DREAM OF LIFE. 351 



which habits of frivolity and guilty pleasure have 
on the human heart : all the generous aspirations 
of the soul are swallowed up and lost in " the lust 
of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of 
life." A multitude of discourses have been writ- 
ten on the bad effects of early dissipation ; but the 
most mournful among them all, because the most 
radical among them all, is this moral scepticism, 
this tendency to destroy all interest and all faith 
in goodness, and in doing good. 

There is no reason why any one should despair of 
being constantly and eminently useful, who has a 
disposition to be so. It is a vulgar error to sup- 
pose that wealth, or station, or genius are necessary ; 
very different has been the condition of most of 
those whom mankind have hailed as their deliver- 
ers and benefactors. Even the Lord of Life took 
the form of a servant, and chose his disciples from 
among the humblest classes, though with the prom- 
ise and clear foresight that he and they should 
soon sit on thrones, and give laws to the world. 
To realize the fondest dream of single-hearted, 
unostentatious beneficence, nothing more is re- 
quired than to have it always uppermost in your 
thoughts to do the good thing, or say the good 
word, which the occasion suggests and invites: — 
to counsel a friend, when a word or a look may be 
sufficient to decide the question of his whole life ; 



352 THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 



to lift up your voice for the weak and the wronged ; 
to have the courage to be consistent and moderate 
under the pressure of popular excitements ; and in 
general to win men through the gentle and quiet 
influence of a good example. Even professional 
usefulness would seem to have but little to do with 
what is commonly understood by professional dis- 
tinction. Who is the useful clergyman ? Not 
necessarily he who preaches what are called " great 
sermons," but he who is looked up to by the young 
and the old as the father of his flock ; the umpire 
in all differences ; whose presence in seasons of 
distress is as that of an angel of mercy ; whose in- 
fluence is also felt in education, as manifested not 
only in the schools, but in the taste and manners 
of the people, and even in their roads and dwell- 
ings, so that a stranger cannot drive through the 
village without being impressed with the evidence 
that a wise and good man has been there. Noth- 
ing, I repeat it, is needed for all this, so far as it 
depends on man, but the disposition. The only 
quality of mind for which Oberlin, the Protestant 
pastor in the Ban de la Roche, can be said to have 
been distinguished, was an earnest, straightforward 
purpose to do good ; and the memorial of what he 
did is immortal. 

The e}^es of Christians are open, at length, to 
the full significance of the teachings of the gospel 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 353 



on this subject. " Whosoever will be great among 
you, let him be your minister ; and whosoever will 
be chief among you, let him be your servant." 
Hence the principle of genuine philanthropy was 
never so active in the community as at this mo- 
ment. You see it everywhere ; in the perilous and 
self-denying course of the foreign missionary, bear- 
ing the blessings of Christian civilization to the 
most benighted parts of the earth ; in the outcry of 
indignation at the neglected condition of a merce- 
nary soldiery, and in the unprecedented efforts to 
mitigate their sufferings. You see it also, nearer 
home, in the thousand forms of that sensitive and 
restless compassion which extends its regards to 
the humblest and most abject, — to children in fac- 
tories, to the poor debtor, to the discharged pris- 
oner, to the maniac pauper, to the squalid misery 
collected in large cities, — " which pries," as it has 
been said, " into the stores and water-casks of 
every emigrant ship, which winces at every lash 
laid on the back of a drunken sailor, which will 
not suffer the thief in the hulks to be ill-fed or 
over-worked." Men are beginning to feel, as they 
never did before, that there is an important sense 
in which every one is his brother's keeper. More- 
over, this service, which men have been content to 
regard hitherto as a part of duty, is beginning to 
be regarded as a part of greatness. The military 

w 



854 THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 



hero and the intellectual hero have long been wor- 
shipped ; the claims of the moral hero are begin- 
ning to be recognized. A dream, do you call it ? 
But the success, far beyond the most sanguine ex- 
pectations, which has attended many philanthropic 
enterprises, and the glory which has crowned 
it, show that it is a dream which is every day 
coming to pass. Merely as a dream also it makes a 
man better and happier, for it raises him above 
himself ; and, even if he falls a martyr to it, how 
much better to fall here, than on the field of battle ; 
where, as the greatest captain of the age has said, 
the horrors of a victory are only exceeded by the 
horrors of a defeat. 

One word, in conclusion, on the young man's 
dream of p>rogress in knowledge and virtue; his 
dream of self-perfection. 

There is a sect of Christians, who derive their 
name from holding the doctrine that every one can 
and ought to become morally perfect in the present 
life. I am disposed to regard this .as an idle and a 
mischievous dream ; but it is mischievous from the 
circumstance that they look upon perfection as an 
acquisition, and not as an aim; it is & perfection 
which belongs to here and there one, and not a 
perfectibility which belongs to all. Let no one 
reject or dismiss the dream of perfection in the 
last-mentioned sense, on the ground that it per- 



THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 355 



tains to enthusiasts alone. If there ever was a 
person not to be classed with enthusiasts, it was 
Dr. Franklin ; yet he tells us in his autobiography 
that, when he was a young man, he conceived the 
arduous project of making himself morally perfect ; 
and, from the manner in which he insists on the de- 
tails, it is plain how much importance he attached 
to the attempt. In its most general significa- 
tion, this dream of self-perfection simply expresses 
the fact, that, not being satisfied with the actual, 
we hold up before us an ideal good. As the artist 
holds up before him an ideal beauty, which he 
strives to copy and make his own, so the Christian 
holds up before him an ideal self, which he strives 
to realize. A life without these ideals would be 
stagnation and moral death. And besides, what 
can be more explicit than the teachings of the New 
Testament on this point? "Be ye therefore per- 
fect, even as your Father which is in heaven is 
perfect." " Till we all come in the unity of the 
faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, 
unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the ful- 
ness of Christ." 

This, then, is the application of what I have said, 
which I would impress on those especially, who are 
worshipping with us for the last time. You have 
dreamed of many things, while you have been here. 
If you have dreamed of a life of ease and pleasure 



356 THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 

and self-indulgence, or of a life of selfish ambition 
and worldly success and display, I beseech you 
to dismiss the thought from this moment. All 
such dreams are false to your nature and destiny ; 
they are utterly unsuitable and impracticable in 
this country ; and under the most favorable cir- 
cumstances they can only end in self-dissatisfaction 
or self-contempt. But you have dreamed of better 
things than these. You have dreamed of a life 
of usefulness, and of a just and honorable fame. 
Even in the midst of levities and indiscretions, 
which have filled the hearts of those who love you 
with inexpressible concern, you have yet dreamed 
of a future career that would satisfy the best ex- 
pectations of your friends, reflect honor on the 
place of your education, and help to uphold the 
institutions and liberties of our common country. 
Some of you have marked out for yourselves a line 
of conduct which will lead to eminence in business 
or in the secular professions ; some of you propose to 
devote yourselves more exclusively to scientific pur- 
suits, in the hope, and with the purpose, to extend 
the bounds of human knowledge for human good ; 
some of you have made up your minds to give 
yourselves, more immediately and more entirely, to 
the great ministry of humanity, and to the Church 
of the Living God. Reverence these dreams of 
your youth. Make your future lives the fulfil- 



THE YOUNG HAN'S DREAM OF LIFE. 357 

nient of these dreams. Remember, you are not to 
live for the past, for that is gone ; nor for the pres- 
ent, for while I am yet speaking that is also gone : 
but for the future, which is all before you. And, 
if faithful, you have the promise of help and of 
victory, from that mysterious and awful and all- 
sustaining Presence in which you will act and 
live. 

1855. 



358 



MORAL DISTINCTIONS IN 



XXI. 

MORAL DISTINCTIONS NOT SUFFICIENTLY RE- 
GARDED IN SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 

" He that walketh with wise men shall be wise ; but a companion of fools 
shall be destroyed." — Proverbs xiii. 20. 

' I ^HAT " a man may be known by the company 
he keeps," has passed into a proverb among 
all nations, — thus attesting what has been the uni- 
versal experience. The fact would seem to be that 
a man's associates either find him, or make him, like 
themselves. An acute but severe critic of manners, 
who Avas too often led by his disposition and cir- 
cumstances to sink the philosopher in the satirist, 
has said, " Nothing is so contagious as example. 
Never was there any considerable good or ill ac- 
tion, that hath not produced its like. We imitate 
good ones through emulation ; and bad ones through 
that malignity in our nature, which shame conceals, 
and example sets at liberty." 

This being the case, or any thing like it, all, I 
think, must agree that moral distinctions are not 



SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 



359 



sufficiently cared for in social intercourse. In 
forming our intimacies we are sometimes deter- 
mined by the mere accident of being thrown to- 
gether ; sometimes by a view to connections and 
social position ; sometimes by the fascination of 
what are called companionable qualities: seldom, 
I fear, by thoughtful and serious regard to the in- 
fluence they are likely to have on character. We 
forget that other attractions, of whatsoever nature, 
instead of compensating for moral unfitness in a 
companion, only have the effect to make such unfit- 
ness the more to be dreaded. 

Let me introduce what I have to say on the im- 
portance of paying more regard to moral distinc- 
tions in the choice of friends, by a few remarks on 
what are called, by way of distinction, companion- 
able qualities, and on the early manifestation of a 
free, sociable, confiding turn of mind. Most par- 
ents hail the latter, I believe, as the best of prog- 
nostics ; and in some respects, perhaps, it is. It 
certainly makes the child more interesting as a 
child, and more easily governed ; it often passes 
for precocity of talent ; at any rate, men are will- 
ing to construe it into evidence of the facility with 
which he will make his way in the world. The 
father is proud of such a son ; the mother idolizes 
him. If from any cause he is brought into com- 
parison with a reserved, awkward, and unyielding 



360 



MORAL DISTINCTIONS IN 



boy in the neighborhood, they are ready enough to 
felicitate themselves, and others are ready enough 
to congratulate them, on the difference. And yet 
I believe I keep within bounds when I say, that, 
of the two, there is more than ah even chance that 
the reserved, awkward, and unyielding boy, as he 
grows up, will give his parents less occasion for 
anxiety and mortification, and become in the end 
the wiser and better man. The reason is, that, if 
a child from natural facility of disposition is easily 
won over to good courses, he is also, from the same 
cause, liable at any time to be easily seduced from 
these good courses into bad ones. On the contrary, 
where a child, from rigor or stubbornness of temper, 
is peculiarly hard to subdue and manage, there is 
this hope for a compensation : if by early training, 
or the experience of life, or a wise foresight of 
consequences, he is once set right, he is almost 
sure to keep so. 

It is not enough considered, that, in the present 
constitution of society, men are not in so much 
danger from want of good dispositions, as from 
want of firmness and steadiness of purpose. 
Hence it is that gentle and affectionate minds, 
more perhaps than any others, stand in need of 
solid principle and fixed habits of virtue and piety, 
as a safeguard against the lures and fascinations of 
the world. A man of a cold, hard, and ungenial 



SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 361 



nature is comparatively safe so far as the tempta- 
tions of society go : partly because of this very im- 
practicableness of his nature ; and partly because 
his companionship is not likely to be desired or 
sought even by the bad : he will be left to himself. 
The corrupters of innocence in social intercourse 
single out for their prey men of companionable 
qualities. Through his companionable qualities 
the victim is approached ; and by his companion- 
able qualities he is betrayed. 

Let me not be misunderstood. Companionable 
qualities are not objected to as such. When they 
spring from genuine goodness of heart, and are the 
ornament of an upright life, they are as respectable 
as they are amiable ; and it would be well if Chris- 
tians and all good men cultivated them more than 
they do. If we would make virtue and religion to 
be loved, we must make ourselves to be loved for 
our virtue and religion ; which would be done if 
we were faithful to carry the gentleness and charity 
of the gospel into our manners as well as into our 
morals. Nevertheless, we insist that companion- 
able qualities, when they have no better source 
than a sociable disposition, or, worse still, an easy 
temper and loose principles, are full of danger to 
their possessor, and full of danger to the com- 
munity ; especially where, from any cause, but 
little regard is paid to moral distinctions in social 
16 



362 



MORAL DISTINCTIONS IN 



intercourse. We also say, that in such a state of 
society the danger will be most imminent to those 
whom we should naturally be most anxious to 
save, — I mean, persons of a loving and yielding 
turn of mind. 

And this brings me back again to the position 
taken in the beginning of this discourse. The 
reason why companionable qualities are attended 
with so much danger is, that society itself is at- 
tended with so much danger ; and the reason why 
society itself is attended with so much danger is, 
that social intercourse is not more under the con- 
trol of moral principles, moral rules, and moral 
sanctions. 

My argument" does not make it necessary to 
exaggerate the evils and dangers of modern 
society. I am willing to suppose that there have 
been times when society was much less pure than 
it is now ; and again, that there are places where 
it is much less pure than it is here : but it does not 
follow that there are no evils or dangers now and 
here. On the contrary, it is easy to see that there 
may be stages in the progressive improvement of 
•society, where the improvement itself will have the 
effect, not to lessen, but to increase the danger, so 
far as good men are concerned. In a community 
-where vice abounds, where the public manners are 
notoriously and grossly corrupt, good men are put 



SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 



363 



on their guard. Good men will not be injured by 
such society, for they will have nothing to do with 
it. A broad line of demarcation is drawn between 
what is expected from good men, and what is ex- 
pected from bad men ; so that the example of the 
latter has no effect on the former except to ad- 
monish and to warn. But let the work of refine- 
ment and reform go on in general society until vice 
itself is constrained to wear a decent exterior, until 
an air of decorum and respectability is thrown over 
all public meetings and amusements, and one con- 
sequence will be that the distinction between 
Christians and the world will not be so clearly 
seen, or so carefully observed, as before. The 
standard of the world, from the very fact that it 
is brought nearer to the standard of the gospel, 
will be more frequently confounded with it ; Chris- 
tians will feel at liberty to do whatever the world 
does, and the danger is, that they will come at 
length to do it from the same principles. 

Besides, are we sure that we have not formed 
too favorable an opinion of the moral condition of 
general society, — of that general society in the 
midst of which we are now living, and to the in- 
fluence of which we are daily and hourly exposed ? 
"We should remember that, in pronouncing on the 
character of public opinion and public sentiment, 
we are very likely to be affected and determined 



364 



MORAL DISTINCTIONS IN 



ourselves, not a little, by the fact that we share 
in that very public opinion and public sentiment 
which we are called upon to judge. I have no 
doubt that virtue, in general, is esteemed even by 
the world, or that, other things being equal, a man 
of integrity will be preferred on account of his in- 
tegrity. But this is not enough. It shows that 
the multitude see, and are willing to acknowledge, 
the dignity and worth of an upright course ; but it 
does not prove them to have that abhorrence for 
sin, which it is the purpose and the tendency of the 
gospel to plant in all minds. If they had this set- 
tled and rooted abhorrence for sin, which marks 
the Christian, and without which a man cannot be 
a Christian, they would not only prefer virtue to 
vice, "other things being equal," but they would 
do so whether other things were equal or not; they 
would knowingly keep no terms with vice, however 
recommended or glossed over by interest or worldly 
favor, or refined and elegant manners. 

Now I ask whether general society, even as it 
exists amongst us, will bear this test ? Is it not 
incontestable that very unscrupulous and very 
dangerous men, if they happen to be men of tal- 
ents, or men of fashion, or men of peculiarly 
engaging manners, find but little difficulty in in- 
sinuating themselves into what is called good 
society ; nay, are often among those who are 



SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 



365 



most courted and caressed? Some vices, I know, 
are understood to put one under the social ban ; 
but it is because they offend, not merely against 
morality and religion, but against taste, against 
good-breeding, against certain conventions of the 
world. To be convinced of this it is only neces- 
sary to observe that the same, or even a much 
larger amount of acknowledged criminality, mani- 
fested under other forms, is not found to be at- 
tended with the same result. The mischiefs of 
this state of things are felt by all ; but especially 
by those who are growing up in what are generally 
accounted the most favored walks of life. On 
entering into society they see men of known 
profligacy mingling in the best circles, and with 
the best people, if not indeed on terms of entire 
sympathy and confidence, at least on those of the 
utmost possible outward respect and courtesy. 
They see all this, and they see it every day ; and 
it is by such flagrant inconsistencies in those they 
look up to for guidance, more perhaps than by any 
other one cause, that their own principles and their 
own faith are undermined. And besides, being 
thus encouraged and countenanced in associating 
with dissipated and profligate men in what is called 
good society, they will be apt to construe it into 
liberty to associate with them anywhere. At any 
rate the intimacy is begun. As society is con- 



366 MORAL DISTINCTIONS IN 



stituted at present, corrupting intimacies are not 
infrequently begun amidst all the decencies of 
life, and, it may be, in the presence and under 
the countenance and sanction of parents and 
virtuous friends, • which are afterwards renewed 
and consummated, and this too by an easy, natu- 
ral, and almost necessary gradation, amidst scenes 
of excess, — perhaps in the haunts of ignominy 
and crime. 

If one should propose a reform in this respect, I 
am aware of the difficulties and objections that 
would stand in his way. 

Some would affirm it to be impracticable in the 
nature of things. They would reason thus : — " The 
circle in which a man visits and moves is made for 
him, and not by him ; at any rate, it is not, and 
cannot be, determined by moral considerations 
alone. Something depends on education ; some- 
thing on family connections or mere vicinity ; 
something on similarity in tastes and pursuits ; 
something also on equality or approximation in 
wealth and standing. A poor man, or a man 
having a bare competency, if he is as virtuous 
and industrious, is just as respectable as a rich 
man ; but it is plain that he cannot afford to 
pitch his style of living, or his style of hospi- 
tality, on the same scale of expense. It is better 
for both, therefore, that they should visit in dif- 



SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 



367 



ferent circles." Perhaps it is: but what then? I 
am not recommending an amalgamation of the dif- 
ferent classes in society. I suppose that such an 
amalgamation would neither be practicable nor de- 
sirable in the existing state of things. All I con- 
tend for is, that in every class, open and gross 
immorality of any kind should exclude a man 
from reputable company. Will any one say that 
this is impracticable? Let a man, through un- 
toward events, but not by any fault or neglect 
of his own, be reduced in his circumstances, — let 
a man become generally odious, not in consequence 
of any immorality, but because, perhaps, he has 
embraced the unpopular side in politics or relig- 
ion, — let a man omit some trifling formality which 
is construed into a vulgarity, or a personal affront, 
— and people do not appear to find much difficulty 
in dropping the acquaintance. If, then, it is so 
easy a thing to drop a man's acquaintance for 
other reasons, and for no reason, — from mere 
prejudice, from mere caprice, — will it still be 
pretended that it cannot be done at the command 
of duty and religion ? 

Again, it may be objected that, if you banish a 
man from general society for his immoralities, you 
will drive him to despair, and so destroy the only re- 
maining hope of his reformation. What ! are you 
going to keej) society corrupt in the vain expecta- 



368 



MORAL DISTINCTIONS IN 



tion that a corrupt state of society will help to re- 
form its corrupt members? Besides, I grant that 
we should have compassion on the guilty ; but I 
also hold that we should have compassion on the 
innocent, too. Would you, therefore, allow a bad 
man to continue in good society, when the chances 
are a thousand to one that he will make others as 
bad as himself, and not more than one to a thou- 
sand that he himself will be reclaimed? More- 
over, this reasoning is fallacious throughout. By 
expelling a dissipated and profligate man from 
good society, instead of destroying all hope of 
his recovery, you do in fact resort to the only 
lemaining means of reforming one over whom a 
fear of God, and a sense of character, and the 
upbraidings of conscience have lost their power. 
What cares he for principle, or God, or an here- 
after ? Nothing, therefore, is so likely to encour- 
age and embolden him to go on in his guilty 
course, as the belief that he will be allowed to 
do so without the forfeiture of the only thing he 
does care for, his reputable standing in the world. 
On the other hand, nothing is so likely to arrest 
him in these courses, and bring him to serious 
reflection, as the stern and determined threat 
of absolute exclusion from good society, if he 
persists. 

Another objection will also be made which has 



SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 



369 



stronger claims on our sympathy and respect. We 
shall be told that the innocent as well as the guilty 
will suffer, — the guilty man's friends and connec- 
tions, who will probably feel the indignity more 
than he does himself. God forbid that we should 
needlessly add to the pain of those who are thus 
connected ! But we must remember that the high- 
est form of friendship does not consist in blindly 
falling in with the feelings of those whom we 
would serve, but in consulting what will be for 
their real and permanent good. If, therefore, the 
course here recommended has been shown to be 
not onlv indispensable to public morals, but more 
likely than any other to reclaim the offender, it is 
clearly not more a dictate of justice to the com- 
munity, than of Christian charity to the parties 
more immediately concerned. Consider, also, how 
much is asked, when a good man is called upon to 
open his doors to persons without virtue and with- 
out principle. Unless the social circle is presided 
over by. a spirit which will rebuke and frown away 
immorality, whatever fashionable names and dis- 
guises it may wear, — unless your sons and daugh- 
ters can meet together without being in danger of 
having their faith disturbed by the jeers of the 
infidel, or their purity sullied by the breath of the 
libertine, neither they nor you are safe in the most 
innocent enjoyments and recreations. Parents at 
16* x 



370 



MORAL DISTINCTIONS IN 



least should take a deep interest in this subject, 
if they do not wish to see the virtue, which they 
have reared under the best domestic discipline, 
blighted and corrupted before their eyes by the 
temptations to which their children are almost 
necessarily exposed in general society, — a society 
which they cannot escape except by going out of 
the world, and which they cannot partake of with- 
out endangering the loss of what is of more value 
than a thousand worlds. 

I have failed altogether in my purpose in this 
discourse if I have not done something to increase 
your distrust of mere companionable qualities, when 
not under the control of moral and religious princi- 
ple ; and also of the moral character and moral in- 
fluence of general society, as at present constituted. 
Still you may ask, " If I associate with persons worse 
than myself, how can it be made out to be more 
probable that they will drag me down to their level, 
than that I shall lift them up to mine ? " The an- 
swer to this question, I hardly need say, depends, 
in no small measure, on the reason or motive which 
induces the association. If you mix with the world, 
not for purposes of pleasure or self-advantage, — if 
you resort to society, not for society as an end, but 
as a means to a higher end, the improvement of 
society itself, — you do but take up the heavenly 
mission which Christ began. For not being able 



SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 



371 



to make this distinction, through the hollo wness 
and corruption of their own hearts, the Pharisees 
thought it to be a just ground of accusation against 
our Lord, that he was willing to be accounted the 
friend of publicans and sinners. Let the same mind 
be in you that was also in Christ Jesus, and we can- 
not doubt that the spirit which inspires you will- 
preserve you wherever you may go. It is of such 
persons that our Lord has said : " Behold, I give 
unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpi- 
ons, and over all the power of the enemy ; and 
nothing shall by any means harm you." Very far 
am I, therefore, from denying that we may do good 
in society, as well as incur danger and evil. Even 
in common friendships frequent occasions will 
present themselves for mutual service, for mutual 
counsel and admonition. Let me impress upon 
you this duty. Perhaps there is not one among 
you all, who has not at this moment companions 
on whom he can confer an infinite blessing. If 
there is a weak place in their characters, if to your 
knowledge they are contemplating a guilty pur- 
pose, if they are on the brink of entering into dan- 
gerous connections, by a timely, affectionate, and 
earnest remonstrance you may save them from 
ruin. Remember, we shall all be held responsible, 
not only for the evil which we do ourselves, but 
for the evil which we might prevent others from 



372 DISTINCTIONS IN SOCIAL INTERCOURSE. 



doing : it is not enough that we stand ; we must 
endeavor to hold up our friends. 

Very different from this, however, is the ordinary 
commerce of society ; and hence its danger. If we 
mix with the world for the pleasure it affords, we 
shall be likely to be among the first to be recon- 
ciled to the freedom and laxity it allows. The 
world is not brought up to us, but we sink down 
to the world ; the drop becomes of the consistence 
and color of the ocean into which it falls; the ocean 
itself remains unchanged. In the words of an old 
writer, " Though the well-disposed will remain 
some good space without corruption, yet time, I 
know not how, worketh a wound in him. Which 
weakness of ours considered, and easiness of nat- 
ure, apt to be deceived, looked into, they do best 
provide for themselves that separate themselves 
as far as they can from the bad, and draw as 
nigh to the good, as by any possibility they can at- 
tain to." " He that walketh with wise men shall 
be wise ; but a companion of fools shall be 
destroyed." 

1849-1858. 



ST. THOMAS, OR TEE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 373 



XXII. 

ST THOMAS, OR THE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 

"But Thomas, one of the Twelve, called Didymus, teas not with them 
when Jesus came. The other disciples said unto him, We have seen 
the Lord. But he said unto them, Except I shall see in his hands 
the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, 
and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe." — John xx. 
24, 25. 

TT is a singular fact that the company of the 
Apostles, though but twelve in number, com- 
prised almost every possible variety of mind and 
temper. There were the contemplative and affec- 
tionate John, the vehement Peter, the guileless and 
confiding Nathaniel, the judicious James, the selfish 
and plotting Judas, the sceptical Thomas. And I 
cannot bring myself to believe that this was acci- 
dental, or that it was without a particular design 
in the overruling providence of God. Certain it 
is, that, for us who must believe in the leading 
facts of Christianity on historical testimony, the 
circumstance here referred to has given a peculiar 
weight to that testimony. It shows that the evi- 
dence for these facts to eye-witnesses was of such 



374: 



ST. THOMAS, OR 



a nature as to produce conviction, not merely in 
one sort of minds, but in all sorts of minds, and 
among the rest, in minds constitutionally distrust- 
ful and incredulous. 

Under this point of view, let our attention now 
be called to the conduct and character of Thomas, 
who, though " one of the Twelve," had a mind 
so slow to accept the supernatural, that he could 
say when told of our Lord's resurrection, " Except 
I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, 
and put my finger into the print of the nails, and 
thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe. ,; 

Let us begin by glancing at what had been pre- 
viously said of this Apostle by the sacred writers, 
considered as defining his position and illustrating 
his character. 

He is introduced to us in the first instance, 
when Jesus was on the eve of suddenly returning 
to Judea, that he might raise Lazarus from the 
dead. Jesus had just left that country, retiring 
with the Twelve into Peraea on the other side 
of Jordan, which was beyond the jurisdiction of 
the High Priest and his Council at Jerusalem ; and 
this he had done partly at least that he might es- 
cape out of their hands, for they were now bent on 
his destruction. On his announcing unexpectedly 
his determination to go back, his disciples remon- 
strated with one voice, for the impression of the 



THE DOUBTIXG DISCIPLE. 



375 



blind fury with which the ruling party among the 
Jews were actuated against him was still fresh in 
their minds. They protested, therefore, against 
the temerity of putting himself so soon into then- 
power again ; but when the} T found it was to no 
avail, Thomas turned round, and said to his fel- 
low-disciples, " Let us also go that we may die 
with him." 

Here certainly there was no want of affection, 
fidelity, or self-devotion; but the action of these 
fine qualities was mingled with gloomy forebodings 
which had their spring in a nature prone to doubt 
and despondency. In moral principle and gener- 
ous feeling, Thomas does not seem to have fallen 
below the other Apostles ; his infirmity consisted 
in a constitutional tendency to distrust, which 
tempted him to look at the dark side of tilings. 
He did not doubt the reality or the obligation of 
virtue ; what he doubted was the promises made 
to it, at least as regards this life. He was not a 
sceptic in respect to principles, but only in respect 
to promises. Accordingly, conscience and kind af- 
fection never forsook him, though hope did. In 
the particular case under consideration, he had no 
intention of deserting his Master, come what would. 
He felt, he knew, that Master to be worthy of any 
sacrifices on his part he could be called upon to 
make, even though they should involve the sacri- 



376 



ST. THOMAS, OR 



flee of his life. He was ready to die with him or 
for him. Finding it impossible, therefore, to dis- 
suade our Lord from the rash enterprise, as his 
Apostles regarded it, on which he was bent, 
Thomas was the foremost to say, " Then let us 
follow him ; let us stand by him to the last ; let 
no one entertain the thought of abandoning him 
now." These certainly were utterances of love 
and dut} 7 , and not the less so because half in 
despair. 

The same spirit is also evinced by this apostle 
on his next appearance in the evangelical narra- 
tive. The Supper of the Passover, the last which 
our Lord took with his disciples, was over ; the 
Traitor had just left them in order to keep his ap- 
pointment with a party whom the High Priest had 
sent to arrest Jesus ; and Jesus himself, though 
darkly and as it were by degrees, as they were 
able to bear it, had announced his approaching 
departure. Meanwhile, the whole company had 
become exceedingly sorrowful and depressed by 
the turn which the conversation had taken, and 
the gloomy but indistinct apprehensions it had 
awakened in their minds ; and it was with a view 
to alleviate, as far as might be, this despondency, 
that Jesus began to speak of the benefits to accrue 
to them and others from his going awa}^. " In my 
Father's house are many mansions : if it were not 



THE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 377 



so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place 
for you. And if I go and prepare a place for yon, 
I will come again and receive you to myself ; that 
where I am, there ye may be also. And whither 
I go ye know, and the way ye know." And so, 
it would seem, they might : but a veil was on their 
hearts, through the Jewish prejudice respecting the 
earthly kingdom of the Messiah, which hindered 
them from understanding these words to refer to 
his death, to his passing into another world. 
Thomas especially, — who was, as we have seen, 
naturally slow, cautious, and distrustful, depend- 
ing much on the evidence of the senses, and find- 
ing but small encouragement in vague prospects 
of good, and who, in this particular instance, like 
Peter before him, appears to have understood 
Jesus as alluding to some temporary place of con- 
cealment to which he was about to retire from 
his pursuers, — breaks out into an expression of 
something like impatience : " Lord, we know not 
where you are going ; how then can we know the 
way?" 

Here again, however, there is no want of affec- 
tion or fidelity. On the contrary, it is this very 
affection and fidelity which is at the bottom of his 
uneasiness and dissatisfaction. It is not his indif- 
ference, but his love for Jesus, which makes him 
impatient of the obscurity in which the latter had 



378 



ST. THOMAS, OR 



wrapped his thoughts and his plans. He is solici- 
tous to know and see with his own eyes the retreat 
concluded on, and the way to it, that he and the 
rest of the disciples might judge of its security ; 
and this, too, not so much on his own account as 
on that of his revered Master. Whatever else 
he suspects, he never, you will observe, suspects 
Jesus himself; he never distrusts him; he never 
betrays, in the slightest degree, a want of con- 
fidence in the entire truthfulness and rectitude 
of our Lord : which is the more remarkable, as 
that, from the sceptical turn of his mind, was 
almost the only thing in which he was disposed 
to trust. 

The third and only other occasion, on which 
Thomas comes forth prominently into notice in 
the gospels, is in connection with the evidences 
of our Lord's resurrection. 

Notwithstanding all our Lord had said and clone 
to prepare the Twelve for his violent and igno- 
minious death, it is evident that this event took 
them by surprise, disconcerted all their cherished 
hopes, and led them to give up all for lost. It 
was not that they could remember any thing in 
his life, any thing which had transpired in their 
long and familiar intercourse with him, that should 
abate their confidence in his truth and sincerity, or 
in the reality of his many wonderful qualities and 



TEE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 379 



mighty works ; but the single fact that he had 
been arrested, and given over to die an igno- 
minious death, was utterly irreconcilable with their 
preconceived notions of The Messiah. For this 
reason, and for this reason alone, they thought it 
could not be " He who was to restore Israel," and 
therefore that they must " look for another." Ac- 
cordingly, having come to the conclusion that now 
nothing more was to be done for the common cause, 
each one's fears prompted him to consult his own 
safety, and the little band broke up and fled. Still, 
however, they lingered about in Jerusalem and the 
neighboring villages ; and after the Crucifixion, and 
especially after the third day had come, a common 
interest, a common danger, a common affection, — 
cooperating, perhaps, with faint hopes that their 
Master might rise from the dead, founded on ill- 
understood intimations dropped by him while liv- 
ing, and still further quickened by vague rumors 
in circulation that he had appeared to the women 
at the sepulchre, — drew many of them together 
again. And, while they were together, Jesus came 
and stood in the midst of them, convincing them, 
by indubitable signs addressed to their senses, of 
the reality of his presence and the identity of his 
person. 

Thomas, however, was not at this meeting, his 
constitutional slowness and distrust making him to 



380 



ST. THOMAS, OR 



be among the last to rally. And when at last he 
came, and was told by the others that they had 
seen the Lord, the same sceptical turn of mind 
made him refuse to give credit to what they said. 
He could not believe it : it was too good to be 
true ; they had been too ready and too easy in 
their faith: they had not applied sufficiently severe 
tests ; their wishes and their excited imaginations 
had played into the hands of the illusion : at best, 
it must have been a phantasm, a mere apparition : 
at any rate, he should so regard it, until with his 
own eyes he should see the prints of the nails, and 
with his own fingers touch the Avounds in the hands 
and the side. 

Let us not be hasty in execrating or blaming an 
incredulity, which, under the providence of God, 
has been made to answer a wise and beneficent 
end ; which does not necessarnY involve guilt, and 
was met, moreover, with so much kindness and 
forbearance by our Lord himself. Those who are 
for making no distinction among sceptics would 
do well to remember, that there are three distinct 
and independent sources of doubt or unbelief, each, 
of which stamps it with a different and peculiar 
character. 

In the first place, there is the doubt or unbelief 
which springs from moral unfitness or prejudice. By 
this I mean the difficulty a bad or unspiritual man 



THE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 



381 



finds in appreciating or accepting the revelations 
of the gospel, merely because he is a bad or un- 
spiritual man. This difficulty arises partly from 
the essential unwelcomeness of these revelations 
to such a person, and partly from their not finding 
any response in a selfish, worldly, or corrupt heart. 
This is the class of whom the Scriptures speak as 
being " slow of heart to believe ; " where there is 
no living sympathy with spiritual truth, there can 
be no living faith in spiritual truth. Moreover, I 
would not have you understand that what is here 
said of bad or unspiritual men applies to those 
only who have been guilty of high crimes and 
misdemeanors, or who are of vicious and depraved 
character in the estimation of the world. It im- 
plies, indeed, to a certain extent, a deadness or 
perversion of the moral sensibilities ; this, how- 
ever, may be owing, not to our love of evil, but 
to our want of the love of good, — to our want of 
faith and high aspiration and self-devotion. No 
heart is more inaccessible to religious impressions 
than that of your cool, prudent, self-possessed man 
of the world, who looks upon gross vice as a mis- 
take, upon virtue as an amiable enthusiasm, and 
upon heaven as a dream. 

This sort of scepticism, all will admit, argues 
great and serious moral defects, and is highly 
culpable ; but there is no reason to suspect that 



382 



ST. THOMAS, OR 



the scepticism of Thomas resembled it, either in 
its origin or its results. 

Another source of scepticism is to be found in 
the disgusts occasioned by the errors and corruptions 
which have been mixed ujj with Christianity, and by 
the inconsistencies of nominal Christians. Here again 
there is doubtless ground for blame ; but much the 
largest portion of it should fall on those who cause 
these disgusts. Nothing is easier than to say, that 
Christianity ought to be judged by what it is in 
itself ; above all, that it never should be made re- 
sponsible for the misconduct of men who say that 
they are Christians, but are not. Nobody doubts 
that these are very proj>er discriminations : but we 
must not expect that all well-disposed persons will 
make them. Do what we may, say what we may, 
actual Christianity will pass with most persons for 
real Christianity, and the inconsistencies of nominal 
Christians will be charged upon the bad, or at best 
upon the imperfect, working of the whole system. 
This being the case, when men read the history of 
what is called The Church, and see what absurd- 
ities have been taught, and what abominations have 
been committed under the abused name of Christi- 
anity, who can wonder that the faith of not a few 
has been more or less disturbed ; in other words, that 
their disgusts have so often refused to stop where 
undoubtedly they ought to stop ? I am disposed to 



THE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 



383 



regard this as a common source of doubt ; and the 
more so in proportion as an inquisitive and critical 
spirit prevails. I go further. When this doubt is 
unaccompanied by irreverence or moral indiffer- 
ence, nay, when it springs, as it sometimes does, 
from an instinctive repugnance to admit any thing 
as coming from God which derogates from His 
perfections, or sits like an incubus on the reason 
and liberties of man, I cannot help thinking that it 
is to a certain extent excusable. At any rate, the 
most guilty ones are those who have occasioned the 
scandal; not those who are misled by it. Be this, 
however, as it may, it is obvious that the scepti- 
cism here described is not that which troubled the 
apostle. 

I pass, therefore, to the consideration of a third 
species of incredulity, having its source in organi- 
zation, or in some radical differences of the mental 
constitution. While the multitude love the mar- 
vellous and are easily carried away by it, even to 
the adoption of the wildest and most absurd vaga- 
ries, it is not to be denied that individuals are 
occasionally to be met with in the world, all whose 
tendencies are to the opposite extreme, — individ- 
uals who can hardly bring themselves, on any 
evidence short of mathematical or ocular demon- 
stration, to credit statements involving the extraor- 
dinary or the supernatural. Such scepticism, as all 



384 



ST. THOMAS, OB 



must perceive, is strictly speaking a natural and not. 
a moral defect ; — a misfortune, doubtless, and one 
which often exerts a baneful influence on the char- 
acter, but, in itself considered, in no sense a crime. 
If, indeed, we yield to this natural bias further or 
more easily than our own reason and conscience 
approve ; above all, if we nourish it, and pride our- 
selves upon it, as a sign of mental superiority, in 
that case we make it our own, and must answer 
for it as we best can. On the other hand, if we 
watch against the bias in question, as we would 
against any other natural infirmity, or constitu- 
tional temptation, — if the doubting disciple is a 
disciple still, sincere and humble, — in other words, 
if we doubt only that we may believe, and question 
only that we may make the foundations of our faith 
more sure, it is certain that a naturally sceptical 
turn of mind will have no other effect than to af- 
ford us a better opportunity for the display of our 
love of the truth. 

Those who are for showing no mercy to involun- 
tary sceptics of this description w^ould do well to 
consider how differently they were treated by the 
Lord himself. At the first manifestation of Jesus 
to his assembled followers after his resurrection, 
Thomas, as we have said, was not present. Eight 
days afterwards they were together again, Thomas 
being with them ; and Jesus stood in the midst and 



THE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 



385 



said, " Peace be unto you." " Then saith he to 
Thomas, reach hither thy ringer, and behold my 
hands ; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it 
into my side ; and be not faithless but believing. 
And Thomas answered and said unto him, My 
Lord and my God ! " 

Here was no denunciation, no upbraiding of the 
incredulity of the affectionate and honest, but 
doubting, disciple ; on the contrary, an earnest so- 
licitude to overcome that incredulity by evidence 
suited to his cast of mind. And the appeal resulted 
in complete success, as his exclamation of astonish- 
ment and recognition sufficiently shows. 

Some persons are so taken up with remote doc- 
trinal inferences from this exclamation of Thomas, 
as hardly to notice its more direct and immediate 
bearings. Perhaps it is not to be wondered at, 
that those who find evidence in other parts of Scrip- 
ture to convince them that Christ is God, in the 
absolute sense of that word, should also think to 
see here the traces of that belief. Even they, 
however, must be aware how dangerous it must be 
to lay much stress on mere words, or turns of 
expression extorted by circumstances so exciting, 
so peculiar, so unexpected, so astounding. Sup- 
pose a friend, whose funeral we attended three days 
ago, should stand before us now. Who can tell 
precisely in what terms he would utter his sense of 
17 y 



386 



ST. THOMAS, OR 



the fact, coupled with the bewilderment of his 
faculties as to how it could be ? One thing is suf- 
ficiently obvious : it would be likely to be, as it 
was with Thomas, in the form of a religious excla- 
mation ; and ought perhaps to be interpreted, in 
both cases, as being little else than a religious ex- 
clamation, — an expression of feeling and not of 
thought. In the case of Thomas it signified, to 
be sure, that he, no longer had any doubts about 
the question at issue ; but the question at issue in 
his mind was the fact of the resurrection, and had 
nothing to do with any of the modern theories for 
or against the Divine nature of Christ. Veiy 
probably the question of the resurrection was mixed 
up in the mind of Thomas with that of the Mes- 
siahship, so that one suggested and involved the 
other. The resurrection proved Jesus to be the 
Messiah ; but certainly it did not prove him to be 
God ; on the contraiy, it assumed that he had been 
dead. What Jew could have been made to believe, 
or even to entertain the conception, that Jehovah, 
the only Being whom he acknowledged as God in 
the absolute sense of that word, had just risen f rom 
the dead? If therefore in the exclamation, "My 
Lord and my God," we must understand Thomas 
as meaning to apply both appellatives to the risen 
Jesus, we must still presume that the latter is to be 
taken in a secondary or figurative sense, according 



THE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 



387 



to a common use of it in his day, which consisted 
in calling " them Gods, unto whom the word of 
God came." 

The instructive lessou to be gathered from this 
apostle's -renunciation of his doubts is not doctrinal, 
but practical. It intimates, in the first place, that 
if the sceptic's love of truth does not fail him, he 
is almost sure to attain at last to the truth itself ; 
and secondly, that the only way in which he can 
be saved from the evil, and it may be the sin, of 
doubt, is by being converted from the doubt. 

There are sceptics, I believe, who think to find 
excuse for their scepticism, though persisted in, on 
the ground that u one of the Twelve " was a scep- 
tic like themselves. And so he was for a time ; 
but if his scepticism had not yielded to the evi- 
dence, — in other words, if he had continued 
faithless and unbelieving, Judas Iscariot was not 
more certain to be ejected from his apostleship than 
he. Those who think themselves innocent and 
safe, because they begin as the apostle did, must 
take care that they also end as the apostle did. Ie 
one word, if they are like him in a constitutional 
difficulty and slowness of belief, and in honest 
hesitation, they must also take care to be like him 
in not allowing these habits to engender indiffer- 
ence, or to make them less open to conviction, or 
less disposed to accept the proof when it comes. 



388 



ST. THOMAS, OR 



* Will it then be said, that the proof which came 
to Thomas does not and cannot come to us ? 
Will the sceptics of the nineteenth century 
urge : "If ocular demonstration were vouchsafed 
to us, it would instantly disperse our doubts. We 
also should be glad to believe. Let the same 
appeal be made to us that was made to Thomas, 
' Reach hither thy finger and behold my hands ; 
and reach hither thy hand and thrust it into my 
side ; and be not faithless but believing,' — and we 
should doubtless do as he did. So that after all, 
taking the Scriptures as authority, we are just like 
the apostle ; except that Providence does not inter- 
fere in our behalf, as it did in his. In our circum- 
stances, Thomas would have persisted in his scepti- 
cism as we persist in our scepticism." 

Granting for a moment that it were so, — grant- 
ing also that persistence in scepticism, under the cir- 
cumstances here supposed, is not a fault, it by no 
means follows that it is not an evil, and a great 
evil. Moreover, there are evils which, though not 
entering themselves into moral character, affect 
moral character nevertheless most seriously ; and 
want of faith, even if nothing but an evil in itself 
considered, is certainly an evil of this description. 
Want of faith, religious scepticism, by whatsoever 
cause induced, no matter whether a sin or a mere 
misfortune, must have the effect to unsettle our 



THE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 389 



confidence in the highest motives to duty of every 
kind, and in all motives to duty of the highest 
kind, turning our best and most distinctive aspira- 
tions, as immortal beings and the children of God, 
into a passing and mocking dream. 

But is it true that scepticism is any more reason- 
able or excusable now than formerly ? Of course 
we cannot seriously insist on being e} 7 e-witnesses 
of what took place twenty centuries ago. It is 
enough to know that there were eye-witnesses, 
and that they were convinced ; nay, more, that the 
most sceptical man now alive had a representative 
there, in the person of " one of -the Twelve," and 
he was convinced. What satisfied one sceptical 
man we may reasonably presume would have satis- 
fied any sceptical man ; and here the question 
obviously is, not whether you or T were actually 
present, but whether, if we had been present, we 
should probably have been satisfied. 

And besides, if contemporaries had a kind of 
evidence which is denied to us, we also, on our 
part, have a kind of evidence which was denied to 
them. " Refrain from these men," said Gamaliel, 
" and let them alone : for if this counsel or this 
work be of men, it will come to nought ; but if it 
be of God, ye cannot overthrow it; lest haply ye 
be found even to fight against God." Now, " this 
counsel or this work" has stood. Nay, more, it 



390 



ST. THOMAS, OR 



has not only become the accepted religion of the 
whole civilized world, but modern civilization is 
built upon it. We have, therefore, a proof of its 
Divine origin, which the most enlightened Jew of 
apostolic times regarded as more decisive than any 
to be had by contemporaries and eye-witnesses. 

Not is this all. Every truth which appeals to 
the sentiments as well as the understanding — as 
in the case of taste, morals, or religion — must de- 
pend more or less for its reception on the fact 
that the minds to whom it is addressed have been 
educated up to it. The sentiments appealed to 
must be already developed, at least to some de- 
gree, or those who make the appeal will "speak 
into the air." An unspiritual man must believe 
in spiritual truths, if he believes in them at all, 
on authority alone; but the spiritual man has a 
witness in himself. Hence our Lord's reply to 
his once doubting, but now believing disciple : 
" Thomas, because thou hast seen me thou hast 
believed : blessed are they that have not seen and 
yet have believed." A passage not unlike this 
is found in one of the Jews' books. "A prose- 
lyte," we are there told, "is more beloved of the 
Holy Blessed God than all the Israelites before 
Mount Sinai ; for they saw and heard the thunder- 
ings, flames, and lightnings ; but the proselyte has 
not seen this, yet, devoting himself to God, hath 



THE DOUBTING DISCIPLE. 391 

taken upon him the kingdom of heaven." The 
meaning is, that the best men hardly require out- 
ward evidence of any kind to convince them of 
spiritual realities. They find the witness in them- 
selves, — in that spiritual tact, in that inward sense 
of heavenly and divine things, which constitutes 
the essence of a living and saving faith. 

1857. 



392 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



XXIII. 



THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



"And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain; and when he 
was set, his disciples came unto him : and he opened his mouth and 
taught them." — Matthew v. 1, 2. 



T the age of thirty, our Lord entered on his 



public ministry, and was baptized by John. 
Then followed his Temptation in the Wilderness, — 
a mysterious experience, which perhaps is best ex- 
plained by supposing it to have been the tempta- 
tion attendant on a new consciousness of power. 
It was suggested to him that he could take this 
power and turn it to selfish purposes, supplying 
his physical wants, and acquiring distinction, 
wealth, and fame. But the temptation had no 
effect upon him ; it did not even so much as sully 
the purity of his thoughts ; though " in all points 
tempted like as we are, yet without sin." After 
that, he proceeded to collect around him a chosen 
and small band of disciples, to be near his person 
continually, listening to his conversation, asking 
him questions, and beholding his mighty deeds ; 




THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



393 



that they, at some future day, might be in a con- 
dition to take up the same great work when he 
should be called to lay it down. 

He was now in Galilee, in the neighborhood of 
Capernaum. Multitudes had begun to flock to 
him from all parts of the county, some attracted 
by the fame of his wisdom and his miracles, others 
by a natural curiosity to see with their own eyes 
and hear with their own ears a man about whom 
there were so many questions and so much mys- 
tery. Up to this time, he seems to have done 
but little towards declaring himself, — nothing 
certainly which amounted to what is commonly 
understood by defining one's position. He felt 
that to delay doing this any longer would be 
hardly consistent with openness and fairness of 
conduct ; his followers, before they went any 
further, ought to know what they had to ex- 
pect from him, and what he expected from 
them in return. Full of this idea, he repaired to 
an elevated spot in the vicinity, from which to 
address his disciples and the multitude ; and, 
when these had come and arranged themselves 
around him, he opened his mouth and taught 
them, pronouncing the longest, and in nry judg- 
ment, beyond question, the most important and 
significant, of all his discourses, — the Sermon on 
the Mount. 
17* 



394 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



I now propose to call joxxy attention to this dis- 
course under a single point of view, that of its 
being the original and first proclamation of the 
distinctive peculiarities of Christianity, — a formal 
statement by our Lord himself of what would be 
required in the citizens of the new kingdom he 
had come to set up, — the platform, so to speak, 
the programme of the new movement. 

Restricting myself to this large and general view 
of the subject, it will not be necessary to take up 
minor criticisms ; but there is one which deserves 
a passing notice, as it goes to the extent of 
questioning whether any such proclamation was 
ever made ; whether, in short, the Sermon on the 
Mount was ever delivered, — that is to say, as we 
find it in Matthew. Every thoughtful reader of 
the New Testament must have observed that 
there is a report in Luke of apparently the same 
discourse, though in a mutilated form, and with 
considerable additions and variations ; and further- 
more, that there are disjointed fragments of this 
discourse occurring from time to time in both 
Luke and Mark, apparently as if suggested by 
passing events. To reconcile and explain these 
facts, two theories have been advanced. One is, 
that the discourse was really delivered as given 
by Matthew, what we find of it in the other 
Evangelists being of the nature of imperfect 



THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



395 



sketches, or mere repetitions. The other is, that 
Matthew, in order that the force and consistency 
of our Lord's teachings might be more felt, has 
brought together what he said on various occa- 
sions, and given it as one continuous and con- 
nected discourse. The first mentioned of these 
theories is to me the most probable and satis- 
factory ; either, however, may be adopted with- 
out essentially affecting my argument. In one 
case, we have our Lord laying down in the begin- 
ning what his followers must be in order to enter 
into the kingdom of heaven ; in the other, we have 
in one place a collection and summary of all our 
Lord's teachings on the subject, inculcating, how- 
ever, the self-same doctrine. 

There is also another objection to the use I am 
going to make of the Sermon on the Mount, which 
it will be proper to consider for a moment in the 
outset. It is said, that, to ascertain what consti- 
tutes the essence of Christianity, we must resort, 
not to the first statements of it, but to the last, on 
the ground that every system is a gradual develop- 
ment from small and imperfectly understood be- 
ginnings. Now, in replying to this, I would not be 
thought to exclude the great law of development, 
even from Christianity. Undoubtedly it has its 
place there, but not, as I suppose all will agree, 
without some distinctions and qualifications. For 



396 



THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



instance, I suppose it will hardly be pretended 
by any believer in Christ as a Teacher come 
from God, that he did not know what consti- 
tutes a Christian in the beginning, as well as at 
any subsequent period. The development, there- 
fore, did not consist so much in his teachings 
as he understood them, as in the capacity of 
his disciples to understand him. It did not 
have the effect to supersede the Sermon on the 
Mount, but only to enable his followers to en- 
ter more entirely into its profound significance. 
Again, by development, in this connection, is not 
meant the transforming of one idea into another 
essentially different, but only that the essential 
contents of the primitive idea are more fully un- 
folded and carried out. Accordingly, if the strictly 
moral and spiritual basis assigned to Christianity 
in the Sermon on the Mount is made to give place 
to a doctrinal or ecclesiastic basis, we affirm that 
this is not development ; it is change, substitution, 
contradiction. Christianity begins by being one 
thing, and ends by being another. Furthermore, 
when our Lord said, " I have yet many things to 
say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now," I do 
not suppose he intended that the time would come 
when it would be necessary for men to take an 
entirely different vieAV of what constitutes the 
central idea, the essential nature, of the Gospel. 



THE SERMON ON TEE MOUNT. 397 



What he meant was simply this : that there were 
connections, applications, and extensions of the 
great doctrine of Christian holiness, which they 
from their Jewish prejudices, and especially from 
their worldly conceptions of the Messianic King- 
dom, were not as yet in a condition to appreciate. 

I return, therefore, to the position taken above : 
the Sermon on the Mount is a formal and express 
answer to the question, which was on the lips of 
every one in the vast throng of listeners. All 
desired to know, all had come there to learn, what 
this new movement meant ; and what was expected 
from those who took part in it ; what they were to 
gain, and what they were to clo and be in order 
to gain it. Our Lord knew their thoughts, their 
wants, their longings, in one word, their particu- 
lar state of mind ; and the whole purpose and drift 
of his discourse was to meet, inform and satisfy 
it. Evidently it was so understood at the time by 
all parties, and must, therefore, be so understood 
now. 

If, after what has been said, it should still be 
contended that the Sermon on the Mount was a 
Jewish affair, because it was originally addressed 
to Jews, and abounds in references to the Old 
Testament, the reply is obvious. The Jews are 
addressed, not, however, merely as Jews, but as 
men; moreover, the teachings of the Old Testa- 



398 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



merit, or the construction put upon them, are re- 
ferred to as utterly insufficient, making it necessary 
that there should be a restatement of the conditions 
of Divine favor and acceptance. And this re- 
statement as here given is entirely general, gen- 
eral in all its requirements and in all its promises ; 
thereby showing incontestably that it was not de- 
signed for one age only, or for one people only, but 
for all ages and for all mankind. 

Thus much being conceded, we can be at no loss 
where to go, and where not to go, in order to ascer- 
tain what constitutes a Christian. 

In the first place, we are not to go to the Old 
Testament. In saying this, I do not mean to call 
in question the Divine origin or the Divine au- 
thority of the Mosaic dispensation. Some per- 
sons find it hard to conceive how any thins: 
coming from an absolutely perfect Being can 
be otherwise than perfect in itself, and therefore 
incapable of improvement. But they forget that, 
in God's dealings with imperfect beings like our- 
selves, joerfection becomes a relative term. That 
constitution of government, that system of educa- 
tion, that dispensation of religion, is a perfect one, 
which is perfectly adapted to the condition and 
wants of the community. In this sense, the Law 
was as perfect as the Gospel, — nay, for its time 
and place more so, because more suitable and prac- 



TEE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



399 



ticable. But it by no means follows that the Law- 
is the Gospel. On the contrary, the best thing 
that can be said of the Law is, that it prepared the 
way for the Gospel, — "our schoolmaster to bring 
us unto Christ." We even know that provisions 
were retained by Moses, not because they were 
right, nor because he liked them, but because the 
people were not as yet in a condition to receive 
any thing better. 44 And Jesus answered and 
said unto them, For the hardness of your heart, 
he wrote you this precept." It is true that our 
Lord has said again, in that very Sermon on the 
Mount which we are now recommending, 44 Think 
not that I am come to destroy the Law or the 
Prophets; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil." 
Here, however, we must understand him as mean- 
ing that he had not come to set aside or frustrate 
what had been the main purpose of all preceding 
dispensations, namely, the progressive education of 
the human race, but only to carry out that purpose 
more fully. Accordingly, he goes on to remind his 
hearers of what had been 44 said to them of old 
time," on topic after topic, and to set in strong 
contrast with it, in each case, what he requires, 
showing incontestably that every preceding dis- 
pensation is to be regarded as inadequate and 
merely provisional. 

Under these circumstances, it certainly would 



400 



THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



not seem a very reasonable course to resort to the 
Law in order to ascertain what the Gospel enjoins. 
Yet nothing is more common. Where there is 
one New Testament Christian, there are two, if 
not twenty, Old Testament Christians. Look at 
the importance which the Church of Rome at- 
taches to outward ordinances and an imposing 
ritual. Not a syllable can be found in the New 
Testament requiring it, or favoring it, or sanction- 
ing it. Much of it comes from paganism, and the 
rest from the Old Testament. Protestants, also, 
though approaching it from another direction, 
have fallen into the same error of mistaking the 
Law for the Gospel. Exalting the authority of the 
Bible, and of the whole Bible, against the authority 
of tradition and the Church, they have sometimes 
neglected to make the proper discriminations as 
to the purpose and use of the several parts of the 
Bible. Who can read the history of the Scotch 
Covenanters, or of our Puritan ancestors, without 
being struck with the fact that their characters, 
though admirable in many respects, were yet seri- 
ously hurt by being modelled to so great an extent, 
inwardly as well as outwardly, after the heroes of 
the Old Testament ? One of the Apostolic Fathers 
has said : 44 It is inconsistent to speak of Jesus 
Christ, and at the same time to follow Judaism. 
For Christianity hath not believed in Judaism, 



I 



THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 401 

but Judaism in Christianity, that those of every 
tongue, having believed in God, might be united 
together." 1 

Again, in order to learn what is essential to the 
Christian character, we are not to go, as it seems to 
me, certainly not in the first instance, to the Epistles 
of Paul. Here the objection is not that the stand- 
ard is an imperfect one, as in the case of Judaism, 
but that, from the nature and form of the com- 
positions, it is imperfectly stated or hard to be 
understood. They are letters written to small 
communities, struggling under peculiar difficulties 
and trials, and in danger from peculiar local tra- 
ditions and prejudices, or from the officious inter- 
ference of this or that false teacher. Noav we say 
that such writings must, by necessit}^, be more or 
less local and temporary both in substance and form. 
It was not the Apostle's aim to give a full and con- 
nected view of what constitutes a Christian, but 
to impart special instruction, as the case seemed to 
require ; that is to say, to guard the particular 
community he was addressing against certain 
errors in opinion or practice, to which he had 
reason to believe that particular community was 
especially liable. 

I do not deny that we have in these Epistles the 
application of Christian principles to a great variety 

1 Ignatius ad Magnes, § 2. 
z 



402 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 

of conditions and circumstances ; and hence their 
interest and value. But in order to take these 
principles and apply them to ourselves, we have 
first to disengage them from all that is special and 
peculiar in their form and dress as originally 
applied by the Apostle ; and this is often no easy 
task. Because we have before us Paul's Epistle to 
the Romans, or that to the Galatians, it would be 
presumption in us to assume that we are therefore 
in a condition to say what sort of an Epistle he 
would write to the Churches in Boston or Cam- 
bridge, if he were now to return to life. From 
this and other causes, the difficulty of understand- 
ing the Apostle was felt and acknowledged even 
by his contemporaries. Peter, expressly referring to 
his Epistles, says, 44 In which are some things hard 
to be understood, which they that are unlearned 
and unstable wrest, as they do also the other Scrip- 
tures, unto their own destruction." Whence it 
appears that honesty of purpose and common-sense 
are not the sole requisites of a safe interpreter of 
these writings ; that the obvious sense is not 
always the true sense ; that the " unlearned," 
however piously disposed, merely from not know- 
ing how the obvious sense is to be qualified by 
the occasion and circumstances, may wrest the 
passage to his own destruction. At the best, all 
we can hope to do in such cases is to seize and dis- 



THE SERMON ON TEE MOUNT. 403 



engage the Christian principle which the Apostle 
intended to apply in a very different state of things 
from the present, and apply it anew. Certainly, 
therefore, it would seem to be better and safer to 
take that very principle, as given in its simplest 
and most intelligible form in the Sermon on the 
Mount. 

But there are other discourses of our Lord, and 
above all his life, his own actions and sufferings, to 
indicate what we ought to be and do in order to 
become his faithful and consistent followers. And 
this is true. Far from me the thought to question 
or undervalue these means of spiritual light and 
help. Nevertheless, I repeat, it is only in the Ser- 
mon on the Mount that the Great Teacher under- 
takes to give a full and connected statement of 
what is required of all. His discourses and con- 
versations on other occasions were necessarily brief 
or fragmentary ; or they had special reference to 
some exigency of his immediate disciples ; or they 
looked rather to the growth of the religion, than 
to the life of individuals. And what shall I say 
of our Lord's personal life, as set forth by the 
Evangelists ? As a manifestation of the Divine in 
the human, as an independent proof that he came 
from God, more effective on some minds than any 
other, as a sublime and inspiring impersonation of 
a perfect moral beauty and holiness, never entirely 



404 



THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



lost sight of by the Church, however imperfectly 
understood, its value and importance never have 
been and never can be overstated. But when you 
and I proceed to apply this great life to our small 
concerns, to our ordinary and daily duties, we see 
at once that we are not expected to do the same 
things, but only to act from the same principles 
and dispositions. What these principles and dis- 
positions are, those who can enter entirely into the 
spirit and significance of our Lord's outward life 
can gather from that, because they can see the 
principles and dispositions which underlie it; 
others must gather them, at least in the first 
instance, from his teachings. What we need to 
know most of all is, not our Lord's outward life 
as given in history, but his inward life, the sources, 
the springs of his goodness ; and these are nowhere 
set forth so plainly and distinctly as in the Sermon 
on the Mount, and especially in the Beatitudes, with 
which it opens. 

Obviously, therefore, we must go to this dis- 
course, first of all and above all, if we would know 
what constitutes a Christian in the highest and 
best sense of that word. At the same time, in thus 
defining what I conceive to be the special purpose 
and use of the Sermon on the Mount, I do not 
mean to make it to be every thing, and the rest of 
the Gospel nothing. There are other portions of 



THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



405 



the New Testament, equally important and neces- 
sary, and perhaps more so, though for other pur- 
poses and uses ; and to these we must go for the 
history of Christianity, and for many of its evi- 
dences, and motives, and sanctions. Take away 
the rest of the Gospel, and it is hardly to be sup- 
posed that much regard would be paid to the Ser- 
mon on the Mount. Still it is none the less true, 
that this Sermon contains the original and authen- 
tic statement, from the lips of our Lord himself, of 
what is peculiar and distinctive in the Christian 
character, — the Christian ideal of goodness ; not 
merely how good men differ from bad men, but 
how the good Christian differs from the good 
pagan, or the good Jew, or the good deist. Here, 
more distinctly and authoritatively than anywhere 
else, is set forth that peculiar type or style of holi- 
ness by which the real Christian is known. 

The practical consequences to be deduced from 
this position are of great moment. 

Experience has shown that the attempt to found 
a right to the Christian name on doctrinal unity is 
an idle dream. I do not mean that one theology is 
as good as another; for this would be to forget that 
we have intellectual as well as moral wants. As 
science and civilization advance, and education 
becomes more and more general, it is of the utmost 
importance that the doctrines of Christianity should 



406 



THE SEBMOX OX THE 3IOUXT. 



appear to be in harmony with men's idea? on other 
subjects : otherwise a general defection from the 
popular faith, either open or secret, may be ex- 
pected. But this I say. let a man think as he 
will as regards mere doctrine : if it does not hin- 
der him from acting out in his daily life the ideas 
contained in the Sermon on the Mount, it will not 
hinder him from being a Christian in the highest 
and best sense of that term. 

A similar remark is applicable to ecclesiastical 
distinctions and ordinances. To pretend that there 
can be no salvation out of this or that church is 
the extreme of arrogance and presumption. Of 
course there must be some order of worship, and 
it is natural that men who think alike should wor- 
ship together. Nay. more ; as men are differently 
constituted, and have different receptivities, one 
church may be best for one person, and another for 
another. " One man." says the Apostle. esteem- 
eth one day above another: another esteemeth 
every day alike. Let every man be fully per- 
suaded in his own mind." Observe, however, the 
condition: every one must be "fully persuaded in 
his own mind : " in other words, he must really 
believe what he professes to believe. And the 
reason is obvious. No professions, no rites, no 
observances are likely to be of much avail with 
one who does not really regard them as of Divine 



THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 407 



appointment ; and, besides, it is really to corrupt 
our whole moral life at its heart's core, if, in our 
most solemn intercourse with God, we substitute, 
for an enlightened and honest belief, a shallow and 
fashionable make-belief. Be this, however, as it 
may, what I would now impress upon you is, that 
no church, no outward and visible church, can be 
of any service to you or me as Christians, except 
in so far as it helps us to live the Sermon on the 
Mount ; that is, to act out, in all our relations to 
ourselves, to society, and to God, the ideas con- 
tained therein. 

Yes, to be Christians indeed, we must bring our 
whole lives, inwardly and outwardly, into con- 
formity with " the pattern shown us in the 
Mount." And here it is to no purpose to say 
that this is more than any man can do. No 
man can do it perfectly; but the only legitimate 
inference from this is, not that he cannot be a 
Christian in this way, but that he cannot be a per- 
fect Christian in this way or in any other. It does 
not follow that a man cannot be a Christian, be- 
cause he cannot be a perfect Christian, any more 
than it follows that a man cannot be a friend or 
patriot, because he cannot be a perfect friend or 
patriot. A man can be a Christian according to 
his measure and degree ; but he can be so on the 
sole condition of living up to the Sermon on the 
Mount according to his measure and degree. And 



408 THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 



this is not all. If we sincerely and earnestly strive 
to live up to this divine rule in all respects, it will 
show that we have at least a perfect faith, mean- 
ing thereby a perfect spirit of faithfulness, and this 
faith may be counted for righteousness. That is 
to say, in the next world we may be rewarded ac- 
cording to what we sincerely and earnestly strove 
to be and do, — the w ill as it came from the heart, 
and was only baffled by the essential infirmities of 
our nature, being taken for the deed. 

Our Lord has not left it for others to tell us 
whether we are Christians or not ; he has told us 
himself. Can you suppose, therefore, that, in the 
long discourse in which he has done this, he is to 
be looked upon as speaking into the air, as laying 
down a standard and criterion which is above our 
reach, or which we cannot apply ? Remember the 
words with which it closes : " Therefore whosoever 
heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I 
will liken him unto a wise man who built his house 
on a rock ; and the rain descended, and the floods 
came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that 
honse ; and it fell not, for it was founded on a 
rock. And every one that heareth these sayings 
of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto 
a foolish man who built his house upon the sand ; 
and the rain descended, and the floods came, and 
the winds blew, and beat upon that house ; and it 
fell, and great was the fall of it! " i860. 



THE POWER OF CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 409 



XXIV. 

THE POWER OF CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 

"That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection." — Phil- 
lippians iii. 10. 

* I MIE corner-stone of Christianity, considered as 
an historical religion, is Christ's resurrection. 
A circumstantial narrative of the fact is given by 
each of the four Evangelists. It is also again and 
again referred to, reaffirmed, and dwelt upon by 
the Apostles, as a cardinal point in the new faith. 
" Jesus, and the resurrection," to u know him and 
the power of his resurrection," is the sum and sub- 
stance of their doctrine. 

I am not going to renew an examination of the 
witnesses to the great historical event here alluded 
to. I am not going to take up the question of a 
future life, as if it were still an open question with 
Christians, for it is not; nor yet to go behind Chris- 
tianity, with a view to establish the antecedent 
veraciousness and probability of such a life. All 
these subjects are well enough in their place ; but 
18 



410 



THE POWER OF 



they do not reach, as it seems to me, the main diffi- 
culty ; or rather, perhaps I ought to say, they do 
not meet or supply the main deficiency. The 
main deficiency is not that of a speculative, but 
of a practical, faith. In a Christian community 
like ours, most persons are ready enough to assent, 
at least in words, to the doctrine of Christ's resur- 
rection, and of the general resurrection ; but how 
few know and feel its " power " as they might and 
ought ! 

Some have even gone so far as to maintain 
that, if the doctrine of a future life were to be 
struck out of being, it would produce no sensible 
change in the conduct of mankind. If this state- 
ment were confined to a merely speculative faith 
in the doctrine, and to its direct effect on human 
conduct, it would not be far from the truth. The 
reason is that men's actions are not determined and 
governed, at least not necessarily and immediately, 
by their speculations; but by example, by habit, by 
constitutional propensity. It is so in every thing. 
Because a man's opinions are right, it does not fol- 
low that his dispositions are right, or that his 
conduct will be right. Moreover, it is a mistake 
to suppose that, in order to convert a speculative 
faith into a practical faith, nothing else is required 
but more evidence ; that the difference between 
them is one of degree only. They differ essen- 



CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 411 



tially. The former denotes a state of the under- 
standing, the latter a state of the affections and 
the will ; one we think, the other we live. 

What we want is, not merely to see the truth 
of the doctrine of immortality, but to know and 
feel its " power." What we want is, habitually 
to recognize the reality of the spiritual world and 
a future life, in the same sense and in the same 
way in which we habitually recognize the reality 
of the sensible world and the present life. 

Let no one say that this supposes either an impos- 
sible or a mystical state of mind. An impossible 
state of mind ! We know it to have been actually 
attained by multitudes of men and women in differ- 
ent ages and countries, — not merely by Christians, 
but even by Jews and pagans and Mahometans. I 
do not mean that such persons think of nothing else 
but another life ; this would be to neglect their near- 
est and most imperative relations and duties. But 
when there is occasion for it, the thought of another 
life comes in ; and then, not as of something that 
may be, but as of something that really is. In times 
of great public anxiety and distress, or of domestic 
sorrow, or of private disappointment and suffering, 
their hope is not in man, but in God. Death itself 
cannot scare or unsettle this hope. How many 
confessors have stood up for the truth against the 
world, without a touch of fear ! How many mar- 



412 



THE POWER OF 



tyrs have been burnt at the stake with songs of 
triumph on their lips ! Knowing that God and 
eternity were on their side, they did not care who 
or what was on the other side. To such men, the 
visible heavens in which the stars shine are not 
more real, than the invisible heavens in which God 
reigns. 

Equally unfounded is the notion that the state of 
mind here recommended is mystical or inexplica- 
ble, or in an}' sense extravagant or unreasonable. 
If we are Christians, or even deists, we must 
be presumed to accept, in some form or other, 
the doctrine of a life to come. Look at the monu- 
ments, read the inscriptions, in any of your ceme- 
teries : all speak of a life to come. It is the gen- 
erally received faith. Not one in a thousand bur- 
ies a child, or a parent, or a dear and venerated 
friend, with the sad and forlorn impression that 
he is no more for ever. Some may never have 
thought much on the subject ; others may have 
great difficulties* about it ; with some, faith in 
immortality may be little more than a tradition ; 
with others, little more than a feeling : yet, shad- 
owy and imperfect as the hope is, the offer of all 
the "kingdoms of the world, and the glory of 
them," would not tempt them to let it go. Under 
such circumstances, the wonder, the great practical 
mystery, is not, I insist, that " the power " of this 



CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 413 



faith should be felt by so many, but that it should 
be felt by so few. What more does it suppose or 
require, but that we should act out our professions, 
live as we believe, do as we say ? And is this 
mysticism ? Is it not the very soul of practical 
consistency and good sense ? 

The radical error on this subject consists, as it 
seems to me, in not recognizing the part which 
rightfully belongs to the will in matters of practi- 
cal conviction. We must make a distinction be- 
tween speculative questions, where the end is 
opinion, and practical questions, where the end 
is action. In the latter case, to be for ever de- 
liberating is to forget that it is a practical ques- 
tion. Of course, the will has nothing to do in 
determining the preponderance of evidence, as 
evidence ; but it has a great deal to do in deter- 
mining when, on the strength of this preponder- 
ance, we shall begin to act. Here, more perhaps 
than anywhere else, an irresolute will and a cor- 
responding feebleness of character betray them- 
selves, — not in one thing only, but in every thing. 
The young man who consumes the best part of 
his life in making up his mind as to what he 
ought to do, and even then makes it up hesitat- 
ingly and with reserves, is not likely to do much. 
What makes the great statesman, the great mili- 
tary commander, the great man of business, but 



414 



THE POWER OF 



this very thing, — that he knows how long to 
deliberate, and when to strike ? 

And so in religion. I do not mean that there 
is no occasion here for inquiry and judgment, that 
there is no distinction between a blind and super- 
stitious worship or service, and an intelligent and 
rational worship or service. But this I say : there 
is no proper worship or service of any sort, until it 
takes a practical form. The turning point in every 
man's religious experience is, not when he says " I 
believe," but when he says " I will." 

A man is not a Christian in proportion to the 
amount of truth he puts into his creed, but in pro- 
portion to the amount of truth he puts into his life. 
Accordingly, the great question respecting the doc- 
trine of immortality is, not whether we believe it, 
but whether we live it. Are we prepared to say, 
" Discussion has done its work. The evidence for 
a future state is sufficient for all practical purposes. 
I will no longer look upon it as a matter in debate, 
but as a settled point. It shall take its place in all 
my views and plans of life as a reality, throwing its 
light on all other realities, and requiring that they 
should be adjusted to it, and judged by it " ? Are 
you prepared to do this ? Are you prepared to 
say, " I will " ? If so, " old things are passed away ; 
behold, all things are become new." You are 
in a condition, not merely to recognize the truth 



CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 



415 



and importance of an immortal hope, but alsa to 
feel its " power." 

With this sense, — I do not say with this profes- 
sion or this belief, but with this sense of immor- 
tality on our minds, what will follow ? 

In the first place, it will help to reconcile us to 
the inequalities and incongruities of this world. 
Considered but as the opening scene of an endless 
career, it is easy to conceive that all will come 
out right at last. " What I do, thou knowest not 
know, but thou shalt know hereafter." A life of 
fewer troubles and difficulties and temptations 
might be less fitted to accomplish the end for 
which this life was given ; it certainly would be 
less fitted to call out and educate and strengthen 
personal character. Even the greatest perplexity 
of all, — difference of moral and religious privilege, 
— yields to this explanation. How common it is 
for the men who struggled against the greatest dis- 
advantages in the outset, gaining little by little, to 
succeed best in the end ! The reason is, that these 
very disadvantages, though a hindrance to progress 
in the beginning, are the best school for developing 
a man's latent energies ; that is to say, his power to 
make further progress. Thus a compensation is 
provided, — less progress, perhaps, up to a given 
time, but more power for the time to come ; and 
when we consider that the time is infinite, we 



416 



THE POWER OF 



see it to be compensation which can never fail the 
deserving. 

Again ; a proper sense of immortality will not 
only reconcile us to life, whatever it may be, but 
also to death, whenever it may come. 

If a man thinks at all on the subject, his mind 
must be in hopeless perplexity until he has formed 
a clear, or at least a practical, conception of the 
leading purpose and end for which he is placed in 
this world by Divine Providence. If we are to live 
again, the life that now is must have some con- 
nection with that which is to come ; our present 
state has some bearing on our future state : other- 
wise, our present existence is a mere excrescence, 
unconnected with the rest of our being, absolutely 
without meaning or object, — not even a first step, 
as it is all to go for nothing, and we are to begin 
anew. But what is this connection? What is this 
bearing ? These questions, of such vital moment 
to a seeker after truth and happiness, are suffi- 
ciently answered, as it seems to me, by saying that 
the Creator has placed us in this world, under the 
existing constitution of things, with a view to such 
an excitement and development of our moral and 
spiritual nature as will qualify us for action and 
enjoyment in another world, under a different con- 
stitution of things. 

Thus is it with our education on earth. This is 



CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 



417 



not begun and completed in one place. And why ? 
Because it is not found to be practicable to teach 
everything in one school; but, beginning with the 
lowest or primary school, we make a certain degree 
of proficiency there ; and then, quitting that school, 
we go up to a higher, and so on to the highest. Let 
us not speak disparagingly, much less contemptu- 
ously, even of the lowest school, or of the lowest 
form in the lowest school ; for all must begin there. 
One school is as indispensable as another to the 
final result, and should be looked back upon with 
respect and gratitude. Nevertheless, it would be 
preposterous, as all must perceive, for any one to 
say that he will never quit the lowest school, that 
he will complete his education there. He cannot 
do it : he can only begin his education there. And 
so with the moral and spiritual training of the im- 
mortal soul. It has not been found practicable for 
our nature to attain its full and perfect develop- 
ment in one place, under one constitution of 
things, under one set of influences. Hence we 
are placed here in order to receive our first dis- 
cipline, to put forth our first efforts, to learn our 
first lessons, and so to make a beginning. Still, 
all we can do here, at the best, is merely to make 
a beginning. 

Many, I fear, look upon death as if it would put 
a period to our progress ; but in point of fact it is 

18* A A 



418 



THE POWER OF 



intended to prevent a period being put to our 
progress. This life is one step in our being, and 
but one step ; we die that we may take another 
step. We go as far as we can go in this world ; 
we die that we may go farther, that we may go 
on to perfection. You would not wonder to hear 
a child say, 44 1 would not be a child always." And 
why not ? Because } t ou think it natural and rea- 
sonable for the child to wish that, as he is prepared 
for it, he may be admitted to a wider sphere of 
duty, activity, and enjoyment. But is it not 
equally natural and reasonable for a man to wish 
that, as he is prepared for it, he also may be ad- 
mitted to a still higher sphere of duty, activity, 
and enjoyment ? If the child would not stop with 
being a child, but hopes to become something more 
and better, why should not man be unwilling to 
stop with being a mortal man, but hope to be- 
come something more and better ? I repeat it, we 
do not die that we may stop ; we die, that we may 
go on. 

Moreover, a living and practical faith in immor- 
tality will help to reconcile us to death, come when 
it may ; — that is, to an early death, or to waiting 
for it in extreme old age. 

We can understand that men must die, for so 
it is decreed in their very organization, — as the 
leaves fall in autumn ; but the leaves do not fall 



CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 



419 



in spring. It has ever been accounted one of the 
darkest and most painful mysteries in Divine 
Providence, that so many, in the flush of health 
and spirits, full of promise, with their work but 
just begun, and knit by a thousand ties to loving 
hearts, should be suddenly cut off, while the old 
and infirm and worn out still linger on, often 
against their will. Perhaps the best answer to 
this difficulty is found in our incompetency to 
fathom the Divine counsels. But though we can- 
not understand particular cases, it is not difficult 
to see that the general law under which they take 
place is wise and good. 

Consider, for a moment, what would follow if 
childhood, and youth, and early manhood were 
exempt from mortality ; if, for example, nobody 
died until he was sixty. Is it not as certain as 
it is that man is man, that the early part of life 
would be given, by the great majority, to thought- 
lessness and present indulgence, or to extreme 
worldliness ; and that all earnest self-culture, and 
all serious preparation for eternity, would be post- 
poned to near the close of the period on which 
they could certainly calculate ? Who has yet to 
learn that most persons are extremely indisposed to 
act, and that many seem wholly incapable of acting, 
earnestly and decidedly for a remote object? God, 
therefore, by making us liable to death from the 



420 



THE POWER OF 



moment we begin to breathe, and by making us 
feel that death is continually impending over us, 
has wisely and mercifully so arranged it as to make 
our mortality an ever-present motive or restraint. 
Hence the secret of the amazing power exerted 
over mankind by the thought of death ; which 
does more, as I firmly believe, to keep alive a 
spirit of religion in the world, and, through that, 
a spirit of virtue and order, than all other causes 
put together. There are doubtless higher princi- 
ples than this, and men who can enter into the 
spirit of these higher principles; nevertheless, take 
away from the bulk of mankind the motives and 
restraints to be found in the mysterious overhang- 
ing of death, and I do not believe that society 
could be held together. And the power of this 
thought, let me remind you, is not found in the 
final certainty of death, but in the certainty that 
it may come at any moment. 

And besides, why say of those who die early, 
that they die prematurely, their destiny inter- 
rupted and broken off? We never shall think 
justly, rationally, consistently of death, until we 
come to look upon it, not theoretically alone, but 
practically, as being neither more nor less than 
a change of abode for the immortal spirit. Put- 
ting away all the illusions of the senses and the 
imagination on this subject, and giving ourselves 



CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 



421 



up to the impressions and convictions of our better 
nature, illuminated and confirmed as they are by 
the Word and the Spirit of God, we must come to 
regard death in no other light than as a transition 
from one mode of existence to another. To be 
Christians indeed, we must habitually feel and act 
under a deep and abiding assurance that what we 
call death is not the extinction of a single particle 
of real life ; but only the separation from life of all 
that is mortal, that nothing but life may remain. 
What we call death takes place, and "mortality is 
swallowed up of life." The dead, then, are not 
dead. Our friends, who are absent from the body, 
are present with the Lord. They are not here, 
but they are there; they live, — fully to carry out, 
under more favorable circumstances, every purpose 
for which they were created. 

Is it not a presentiment of this which makes the 
death-bed of the young, as a general rule, so much 
more bright and hopeful than that of the old? 
Death itself would wear a harder and more repul- 
sive look to us all, if we did not so frequently see 
it reflected back upon us from the placid and 
beautiful faces of those whom the world has never 
touched with its sorrows or its cares. 

And what shall I say of old age ? Very far is it 
from being barren of uses and satisfactions. In the 
primitive ages, when wisdom was found in personal 



422 



THE POWER OF 



experience, and not in traditions or in books, the 
old were looked up to for counsel or authority more 
than now. Even now, however, there is a beauti- 
ful and touching reverence everywhere paid to men 
remarkable for their virtues and their years. But 
there is one great drawback : so far as this world 
is concerned, old men must live in their recollec- 
tions, and not in their hopes. Cicero has been 
complimented for the ingenious turn he has given 
to this objection. " An old man," he says, " has 
nothing indeed to hope for ; yet he is in so much 
the happier state than a young man, since he has 
already attained what the other only hopes for." 
But this will hardly satisfy. That we have lived 
to some purpose should reconcile us to having 
lived, but it has nothing to do with our continu- 
ing to live. I can think of nothing more dreary 
than to be waiting for death, without having that 
death lighted up and transfigured by an unshaken 
trust in another life. 

There is no ignoring, there is no concealing the 
inconveniences, the infirmities, which steal over us 
as we descend into the vale of years. What is to 
give peace, contentment, and dignity to the eve- 
ning of our days ? It is a great thing, for an old 
man to retain his faculties and his natural cheer- 
fulness to the last. It is a great thing, to keep up 
his interest in good objects, and in his favorite 



CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 



423 



studies and pursuits. It is a great thing, to "be 
surrounded by kind friends, and all the endear- 
ments and appliances of a happy home. But 
greater than all, " to know Christ, and the power 
of his resurrection," — as a hope full of immor- 
tality. With this hope, he still has something to 
live for, and something to die for. This world and 
all it contains are fading away ; but his eyes are 
fixed on " a better country, that is, a heavenly," 
— "a city which hath foundations, whose builder 
and maker is God." 

1861. 



424 



OUR DUTY IN RESPECT TO 



XXV. 

OUR DUTY IN RESPECT TO OTHER MEN'S 
CONSCIENCES. 

"Conscience, I say, — not thine own, but of the other." — 1 Corin- 
thians, x. 29. 

TF there were but one conscience in the world, 
and that were mine, my course would be plain 
and straightforward, so far, at least, as conscience 
is concerned. I should only have to settle it in my 
own mind what is right, and that would be right ; 
— right for me, and right for everybody. Other 
men, not having any consciences of their own, if 
they wished to act conscientiously, would have to 
regulate their conduct by my opinion of right. 
They would have to look at me, and do as they see 
me do. Men's consciences have sometimes been 
called their watches ; each one consults his own : 
but in the circumstances here supposed, my con- 
science would be more than that ; it would be the 
Town Clock. 

But in point of fact it is far otherwise. There 
are as many consciences as there are individuals ; 



OTHER MEN'S CONSCIENCES. 



425 



and what makes it worse is, that these consciences, 
to all appearance, are not agreed. They do not 
always lead the same way ; they often lead differ- 
ent, and sometimes opposite, ways, even in matters 
of public interest and duty. Your conscience says, 
this ought to be done ; my conscience says, that 
ought to be done ; and, in such cases, what shall be 
done ? Shall your conscience give way to mine ? 
Or mine to yours ? Or shall both give way, some 
compromise being adopted ? Or shall neither give 
way voluntarily, — the question, What is right? 
being left to turn on the question, Which is the 
stronger ? 

Naturalists tell us of animals which cannot be 
turned from their course ; so that, when two chance 
to meet, each begins to raise himself on his legs as 
high as possible, and the one which can raise him- 
self the highest, travels directly over the other's 
head. Something like this not unfrequently takes 
place among men, when they come into collision 
with one another on the ground of contested right. 
The two parties meet, but instead of making room 
for each other on terms of mutual concession and 
respect, they follow the example of the animals re- 
ferred to above. Taking their stand on what they 
call conscience, they immediately begin to stretch 
themselves up as high as possible ; and that party 
which can make itself the superior in prestige or 



426 



OUR DUTY IN RESPECT. TO 



influence, or popular clamor, travels directly over 
the other's head. 

As might be presumed from what is known of 
the overbearing and despotic propensities of human 
nature, this evil has always existed to a greater or 
less degree ; and many things at the present day, 
though in themselves good, tend to increase it. I 
allude here especially to the progress and diffusion 
of knowledge and civil and. religious liberty. In 
proportion as men become enlightened and free, 
each man's individual judgment stands for more, 
and, at the same time, mere tradition, mere authori- 
ty, and, I may add, mere law, stand for less. Un- 
der these circumstances, a man of an arbitrary and 
despotic turn of mind is more likely than ever to 
set up his own conscience, or that of his party or 
clique, as the standard of right, other men's con- 
sciences to the contrary notwithstanding. 

Hence the growing importance, in a practical 
point of view, of looking into this whole subject a 
little more carefully. What is due to the plea of 
conscience, — "conscience, I say, not thine own, 
but of the other"? What is our duty as Chris- 
tians in respect to other men's consciences, espe- 
cially when from any cause they happen to be at 
variance, and perhaps in conflict, with our own and 
the public conscience ? 

We are first to ascertain whether the plea of 



OTHER MEN'S CONSCIENCES. 427 



conscience is well-founded. There is more room 
for this question than is commonly supposed. All 
is not conscience that passes for it in this world. 
And here I do not refer wholly, or mainly, to delib- 
erate hypocrisy, to false appearances, to men pre- 
tending to be what they are not. Undoubtedly 
there is not a little even of this ; undoubtedly 
there is not a little of hollow pretence in modern 
society, and we naturally look for it among those 
who pretend to the most. When a man lays 
claim to a great deal of conscience in one matter, 
and yet shows only a common degree of conscience 
in other matters, we have a right to suspect him. 

Be that, however, as it may, what I would 
chiefly insist upon here is, that men are continu- 
ally mistaking what constitutes conscience. Let 
it be that a man is both sincere and consistent, it 
does not necessarily follow that he is conscientious 
in any proper sense of that word. Nay, more, he 
may be devoted to a particular measure, or system, 
or party, and be ready to make great sacrifices for 
it, and even to die for it, and yet not for con- 
science' sake. It may be, undoubtedly it often is, 
pride of opinion, or mere persistency or obstinacy 
of character. There are multitudes with whom a 
stiff adherence to ground once taken has very little 
to do with morality ; it has a great deal more to 
do with temper. We have had more than enough 



428 OUR DUTY IN RESPECT TO 



of this determination, on the part of headstrong 
men, to act out their purposes under the name of 
conscience, though the heavens fall. It is a mis- 
take to suppose that such a disposition argues, of 
itself, extraordinary conscientiousness ; much oft- 
ener it originates in extraordinary self-confidence 
and presumption, and a determination to have one's 
own way. Extraordinary conscientiousness always 
supposes an extreme anxiety to be right, as well as 
to do right ; and wherever this anxiety exists, it 
must certainly induce some degree of caution, 
hesitancy, self-distrust. The zealot, therefore, who 
rushes on, manifesting none of this caution, none 
of this hesitancy and self-distrust, may be a man 
of courage and daring ; he may count his life as a 
very small thing compared with the objects he has 
in view ; he may strike hard and strike home : but 
it is a palpable mistake to single him out as illus- 
trating the power of conscience. In nine cases out 
of ten, it is the power of will. 

Let us now take another step. Assuming that 
the plea of conscience is well-founded, assuming 
a man really to act from a sense of right, what 
value or authority does this circumstance alone give 
to his opinion of right ? 

Some persons, I believe, are not a little puzzled 
in making it out, how two disputants can be 
equally conscientious, though on opposite sides of 



OTHER MEN'S CONSCIENCES. 429 



the question as to what ought to be done in a par- 
ticular case. But it is because they do not begin 
b}^ clearing up their conception of conscience itself. 
Conscience, properly so called, belongs to our emo- 
tional, and not to our intellectual, nature. It is a 
sensibility and not a judgment : it is a feeling that 
we ought to do right, leaving us, however, to make 
up our opinion as to what is right in particular 
cases, as we make up our opinion on other sub- 
jects, and with the same liability to difference, 
change, and mistake. Accordingly, though we 
come to widely different conclusions as to what 
ought to be done in particular cases, it does not 
follow that we differ at all in our love of right, or 
in our sense of moral obligation ; that is to say, in 
conscience, properly so called. In other words, it 
is not conscience against conscience, but merely 
opinion against opinion; and, what is more, one 
fallible opinion against another fallible opinion. 

Keeping in mind the distinction here pointed 
out, it is easy to see the only ground on which 
any man can claim respect for his opinion of right 
in difficult matters. It is not that he is more con- 
scientious, but that he is more intelligent, and 
more intelligent in respect to the particular ques- 
tion at issue. In a great majority of cases, the 
right is so obvious and patent as to raise no ques- 
tion, the only thing which keeps men from doing 



430 OUR DUTY IN RESPECT TO 



it being a want of conscience. The continual re- 
currence of such instances has probably led to the 
mistake, that conscience alone is all-sufficient, in- 
forming us what to do, as well as commanding us 
to do it. But the moment we are in serious doubt 
as to Avhat ought to be done, the conviction is 
forced upon us that no degree of mere conscien- 
tiousness will supply the place of study, experi- 
ence, and a sound mind. Hence it often happens 
that we entertain a sincere respect for a man's 
sense of right, but no sort of respect for his opin- 
ion of right. If it is a question of statesmanship, 
he must know statesmanship ; if it is a question of 
law, he must know law ; if it is a question of com- 
mercial or social or moral reform, he must be 
versed in all the difficulties and intricacies and 
entanglements of these subjects : else, no matter 
how conscientious he may be, his opinion of right 
is not worth a straw. 

Here, however, another question arises. What 
is to be done with a man who conscientiously holds 
" opinions of right " deemed not only worthless, 
but injurious, and perhaps fatally so ? Some per- 
sons of a speculative vein, not at all inclined to be 
persecutors themselves, insist nevertheless that the 
logic of persecution is irrefragable. If the Church 
really believes that an obnoxious heresy is fatal to 
morals and religion, how can the toleration of it 



OTHER MEN'S CONSCIENCES. 



431 



be reconciled with notions of public duty, or even 
with compassion for the infected individuals ? 
Under the name of sanitary or quarantine regula- 
tions, we enact stringent laws, and inflict heavy 
penalties, in order to prevent the spread of a con- 
tagion which threatens to kill the body. On the 
same principle, and from a similar though much 
higher motive, ought we not to do at least as 
much to prevent the spread of a contagion which 
threatens to kill the soul ? 

I answer, that for any man, or any body of men, 
large or small, laic or cleric, to lay down their opin- 
ions, however honestly entertained, as an ultimate 
standard of truth, is to forget that they are fallible 
beings. It is practically to assume that they are 
infallible, when they knoiv they are not. In other 
words, it begins by assuming as true what they 
know to be false ; and if so, then every form of 
despotism in matters of faith, every form of spir- 
itual domination, must be acknowledged to have 
its root in a manifest contradiction and lie. Per- 
haps some will argue, that what I think to be true 
is the truth for me, at least for the time being. 
And this in a certain sense, and with certain 
limitations, must be conceded. Mark, however, 
the words, — the truth for me. Because it is 
the truth for me, it does not follow that it is the 
truth for my neighbor ; — certainly not, if he 



432 



OUR DUTY IN RESPECT TO 



happens to think differently. On the contrary, if 
there is an}^ force in the argument here insisted 
on, — that is to say, if what I think to be true is 
the truth for me, then it would seem to follow, that 
what my neighbor thinks to be true is in the same 
sense, and to the same extent, the truth for him ; 
so that we find here a ground, not for punishing or 
restraining dissent, but for universal toleration. 

The Church of Rome, aware of this objection, 
thinks to save her consistency by professing to 
build nothing on opinion against opinion, nor even 
on accord of mere human opinion, untrustworthy at - 
the best, especially as regards "the things of God." 
She claims absolute infallibility in matters of faith; 
but it is on the ground of a Divine inspiration per- 
petually renewed. And this would be very well, 
except for one circumstance. The inspiration thus 
confidently asserted, by which I mean the fact of 
the inspiration, must be proved ; and here there is 
nothing but opinion against opinion, and, what is 
more, nothing but one human and fallible opinion 
against another human and fallible opinion : for, 
of course, it will not do to plead the inspiration, 
while the very question at issue is whether there 
really is any inspiration or not. Obviously, there- 
fore, the boasted consistency of Romanism resolves 
itself, for the most part, into a trick of logical 
sleight-of-hand. It consists in so shuffling out of 



OTHER MEN'S CONSCIENCES. 433 



sight the question of the fact of the inspiration, 
that what is manifestly the previous and main 
question, indeed the question of questions, is made 
to seem as if it were no question at all, in short, 
as if it were something which everybody is to begin 
by taking for granted. 

I come, therefore, to the conclusion that the 
fundamental doctrine of consistent Protestantism, 
entire freedom of thought, remains untouched. So 
much at least is due to conscience ; " conscience, I 
say, not thine own, but of the other." We may 
feel little or no respect for another man's opinions 
of right, but we must nevertheless respect his right 
to the opinions, at any rate until he begins to act 
them out. 

I have said, " until he begins to act them out," — 
which brings up another question of greater diffi- 
culty and perplexity. What shall be done with a 
man, who, in acting out his honest convictions of 
duty, comes into conflict with law? 

Exciting and embarrassing as this subject is 
under some of its aspects, there are two or three 
things respecting it, which are sufficiently plain. 
In the first place, law, to be law, must be taken as 
an expression, not of arbitrary will, but of the pub- 
lic opinion of right, of- the public conscience as at 
present instructed. When, therefore, we consider 
and pay a proper respect and deference to law, 

19 BB 



434 



OUR DUTY IN RESPECT TO 



it is not to forsake conscience and follow another 
guide. We still follow conscience, and not the 
less conscience because it is the collective con- 
science of the community. But am I not called 
upon to give up my own conscience in favor of 
this so-called public conscience ? No such thing. 
I am not even so much as called upon to give up 
my own opinion of right, when it differs from that 
expressed in the law. All that I am called upon 
to do is to refrain from acting it out ; and this too, 
as a general rule, and in ordinary times, no farther 
than my own conscience, in view of my duty as a 
good citizen, prompts and requires. 

Again, the law restrains the fanatic from acting 
out new, dangerous, incendiary doctrines, or pun- 
ishes him for it, not with a view to invade his 
rights, but to hinder him from invading the rights 
of others. So long as his conduct injures nobody 
but himself, it is seldom, if ever, that the law inter- 
feres ; but as soon as it begins to injure others, it is 
preposterous to suppose that they will bear it, or 
that society will suffer it. Society, government, 
the State, is, and must be, of the nature of a com- 
promise ; each one giving up a part of his natural 
liberty of action, that he may retain and be pro- 
tected in the rest. And this is not a mere human 
contrivance, but the will and decree of God ; for 
God has evidently made us to live in society, and 



OTHER MEN'S CONSCIENCES'. 



435 



society cannot exist without it. Now we say, that 
to be continually playing fast and loose in this mat- 
ter, to give it up to-day and take it back to-mor- 
row, is not conscience ; it is not even rational 
liberty ; it is a breach of contract ; it is sheer in- 
justice and wrong. Room is still left for the true 
martyr. All honor to the true martyr ; but the 
true martyr is one who suffers himself for his opin- 
ions, — not one who makes other men suffer. 

And besides, nobody will pretend that conscien- 
tiousness is the whole of goodness ; we are to take 
into view a man's tastes and dispositions in other 
respects. The radical error and vice of every form 
of fanaticism consists in practically disregarding 
this obvious fact ; in presuming that mere con- 
scientiousness, mere fidelity to one's opinions, will 
make up for the lack of any other and every other 
needed grace. St. Paul was of a different mind. 
In looking back on the exterminating zeal with 
which, while a mere stripling, he had hunted 
down the Christians, he saw at once that there 
was nothing in the circumstance of his being self- 
deceived, nothing in the plea of the honesty of his 
convictions, to justify or excuse his self-confidence, 
his arrogance, his precipitancy, his cruelty. He 
knew that these qualities of character are always 
bad, however connected ; that they are as bad in 
conscientious men as in unconscientious men, and 
ought to be restrained. 



436 



OUR DUTY IN RESPECT TO 



Undoubtedly, under every human government 
there are bad laws ; undoubtedly, there is a higher 
law ; but it is a mournful, not to say a shameful, 
thing, if the so-called " higher law " represents the 
ignorance and the passions of the community, and 
not its intelligence and sober judgment. So long 
as the world stands in need of agitators and re- 
formers, there will be occasion from time to time 
for bold and daring spirits, who are for compromis- 
ing nothing, who are for carrying out their new 
theories, come what may. When such men ap- 
pear, there is a touch of heroism about them, 
which fascinates like military glory, and causes 
them to be lauded much above their deserts. Be 
this, however, as it may, thus much is plain : they 
are exceptional men alike in their office and their 
virtues, and, when out of place, become a social 
pest. 

One word, in conclusion, on wmat is due to the 
scruples of those who are offended and hurt by our 
freedom, — the scruples, as the Scriptures express 
it, of the " weak " brethren. 

Of course, the spirit of concession in such cases 
must have its limits; otherwise the "weak" breth- 
ren would virtually rule. And again, it must not 
be claimed on the ground of absolute right, but on 
that of Christian tenderness and solicitude for the 
good, and especially for the moral good, of others. 



OTHER MEN'S CONSCIENCES. 437 



Thus qualified and explained, it seems to me that 
a constant anxiety lest our own example, however 
justifiable in itself, may have the effect to lead 
astray the inexperienced and weak, is the natural 
growth of the Christian consciousness, and indeed 
the spontaneous act of every truly generous mind. 
In the words of the apostle, 44 All things are lawful 
for me, but all things are not expedient : all things 
are lawful for me, but all things edify not." 

I know it is an old objection, " Why is my 
liberty judged of another man's conscience ? " 
Why am I called upon to give up rights and 
privileges, or even lawful and reasonable indul- 
gences, merely to humor the scruples of the 
weak-minded ? But this is not stating the case 
fairly. We have many rights which, however, 
we have a right to waive ; nay, more, rights which 
under certain circumstances we feel that we ought 
to waive, and do waive. Neither is it any infringe- 
ment of our liberty. Grant that I am at full lib- 
erty to partake of this or that indulgence on the 
ground of its innocence and reasonableness ; it 
must also be conceded, on the other hand, that I 
am at liberty not to partake of it. I am at liberty 
to partake of it or not, as I please ; and if from 
any reason or motive I please not to partake of it, 
this is just as much a vindication and exercise of 
my liberty as if I were to indulge myself without 



438 OUR DUTY IN RESPECT TO 



restraint. And why talk about being called upon 
to do this merely to humor the scruples of the 
weak-minded ? We are not called upon to do it 
merely to humor the scruples of anybody. We 
are called upon to do it, that we may not unneces- 
sarily offend or disturb another man's faith, or hurt 
his conscience, or make him weak, or lead him into 
temptation, thus putting an occasion to fall in a 
brother's way. Now I ask any one, and every one 
who professes to act on Christian principles, or in- 
deed to have the feelings of a man, whether this 
is not reason and motive enough for practising a 
little self-restraint ? 

After all, however, there is a higher duty we 
owe to the consciences of the weak and ignorant, 
than that of consulting their scruples ; I mean the 
duty of enlightening and strengthening their con- 
sciences, and making them truly Christian. Start- 
ing with the mistaken notion that conscience is a 
light as well as a motive, many persons slide into 
the error of supposing that conscience alone is a 
sufficient guide ; that every one knows what is re- 
quired of him, whether he practises it or not. It 
is far otherwise. Very probably the bulk of man- 
kind know what is required of them in order to 
stand well with their neighbors, or to maintain 
credit in business, or to hold up their heads in 
what is called good society. But they do not 



OTHER MEN'S CONSCIENCES. 439 

know what is required of them in order to enter 
into the Kingdom of Heaven ; they do not know 
the degree to which inward purity and the higher 
virtues are insisted on in the New Testament ; 
they do not even so much as know what con- 
stitutes the peculiar type and style of Christian 
righteousness, by which it is distinguished from 
the righteousness of the pagan or the Jew. It is 
precisely here, therefore, as I conceive, that Chris- 
tian instruction is most needed; — not that men 
may have consciences, for they will have con- 
sciences of some sort or other at any rate ; but 
that the} 7 may have Christian consciences. The 
great and essential peculiarity of the Gospel is 
found, as it seems to me, not in its doctrine of 
God, nor in its doctrine of ordinances, but in its 
doctrine of holiness. " For if ye love them which 
love you, what reward have ye ? Do not even the 
publicans the same ? And if ye salute your breth- 
ren only, what do ye more than others ? Do 
not even the publicans so ? Be ye therefore per- 
fect, even as your Father which is in heaven is 
perfect." 

1860. 



440 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



XXVI. 

PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 

" Therefore, leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ, let us go on 
unto perfection." — Hebrews vi. 1. 

T TOWEVER unlikely or impossible it is that we 
shall ever meet with a perfect man on this 
earth, still, if Ave were to meet with one, we should 
see, that, instead of being a monster, he would be 
of all men the most entirely natural, the most truly 
human. It is no objection to this, that when we 
see one yielding to a burst of inordinate passion, 
or carried away by excessive love of fame, or 
money, or pleasure, we are apt to say, " See there 
human nature, — poor human nature ! " And so 
we do, in a certain sense of that word, and per- 
haps in the most common sense ; for the propen- 
sity in question is a human propensity, and in its 
existing and disproportionate state of development 
it is natural that a man should give w r ay to it. It 
is a development of our nature which makes the 
miser or the voluptuary, but not, I contend, a 



PERFECTION THE CEBISTIAX'S AIM. 441 



natural development of our nature ; and this is a 
distinction which a discriminating thinker will be 
careful to observe. For there is a natural develop- 
ment of our nature, and an unnatural development 
of our nature. The miser and the voluptuary 
become what they are in consequence of a de- 
velopment of human nature ; but then it is in 
consequence of an unnatural, one-sided, distorted 
development of human nature. If human nature 
were developed naturally, that is to say, accord- 
ing to its just and intended order and propor- 
tions, there would be no misers or voluptuaries. 
The misers and the voluptuaries, — they are the 
monsters. 

But if a perfect man would be so natural in all 
his ways, if human perfection would be nothing 
but a full and perfect development of human nat- 
ure in its just and natural order and proportions, 
how happens it, some may ask, that we never meet 
with some of these paragons, — one, at least, in a 
nation, one in an age ? Let me answer this ques- 
tion by bringing into view an analogous and famil- 
iar fact. Go into a forest, — nay, go from forest to 
forest, — and you cannot find a single perfect tree ; 
perfect, I mean, in every branch, in every leaf. 
Yet such a tree would be only true to its nature, 
— that is, perfectly natural. Most clearly, if such 
a tree could be found, it would not be a monster. 
19* 



442 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



Perhaps I shall be told that the impossibility of 
actually finding such a tree is owing to external 
influences, — to the soil, the frost, the insects, the 
mildew. And so it is. But so, too, it is with man. 
His nature also, while in its course of development, 
comes under countless influences from without of 
a most diverse character aud tendency, some of 
which begin to operate before he is born, some 
of which are wrought into his physical organiza- 
tion, and some of which essentially modify his 
education and the whole structure of his moral 
and social being. Now under such diverse and 
conflicting influences we do not say that he will 
become wholly bad or wholly good ; but we do say 
that the character he forms will be a mixed char- 
acter ; it will not be a perfect character. The 
race growing up under such circumstances will 
not be divisible into the perfectly good and the 
perfectly bad ; but every individual will be partly 
good and partly bad. Every man's character will 
be, and must be, and is, mixed. 

Accordingly Mr. Wesley has defined human per- 
fection as being " such a degree of the love of God 
and the love of man, such a degree of the love of 
justice, truth, holiness, and purity, as will remove 
from the heart every contrary disposition towards 
God or man ; and that should be our state of mind 
in every situation, in every circumstance of life." 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 443 



Even he, however, admits that this perfection, at 
its greatest height, does not include absolute free- 
dom from error or mistake, nor exclude the pos- 
sibility of continual progress in knowledge and 
holiness, We also find, that, as he grew older 
and wiser, and saw more of the abuses to which 
the doctrine of perfection is liable, he was more 
and more disposed to modify it and soften it down ; 
until, in writing to one of his female disciples, 
who seems to have applied for advice under a de- 
sponding sense of her imperfection, he could say, 
" Indeed, my judgment is, that (in this case par- 
ticularly) to overdo is to undo ; and that to set 
perfection too high is the most effectual way of 
driving it out of the world." 

Still, it is not to be denied that the advocates 
even of a nominal and qualified perfectionism, like 
this, have done not a little to suggest and foster 
hurtful and dangerous errors. In the first place, 
they have led men to be content with inward 
states, — with an ideal and dreamy sort of good- 
ness ; as if nothing more were required of us than 
that our general intentions and affections should 
be right ; or as if, though our general intentions 
and affections are right, we may not sin in par- 
ticular acts, or in particular manifestations of feel- 
ing. Again, they have given countenance and 
currency to false and extremely unsafe views of 



4-44 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



temptation, by encouraging persons, who think 
their hearts have been changed, to believe that 
now they are in no danger ; that now they may 
expose themselves without fear to any form of 
seduction, — as if we did not know that the best 
men are liable to temptation, and liable to it the 
more in the same proportion as they are thrown 
off their - guard by an overweening sense of their 
superiority to it. Worse than all, perfectionism 
is apt to degenerate into Antinomianism, perhaps 
the most pestilent and stupendous of all the per- 
versions of religion ; which teaches the indifference 
of outward conduct in the regenerate, making even 
injustice and sensuality to be no longer of the nat- 
ure of sin, when committed by those who have once 
been renewed by the grace of God. 

We set aside, therefore, all expectation of ac- 
tually meeting with perfection among men ; we 
confidently believe that under Christianity, as 
under Judaism, " there is not a just man upon 
earth, that doeth good and sinneth not." Still 
there is nothinsr to hinder us from maintaining, 
as the Scriptures seem to do, the doctrine of hu- 
man perfectibility. Perfectibility, as here used, 
differs from perfection in this, — that a man may 
be pronounced perfectible though he never at- 
tains to perfection in fact, provided only that 
there is nothing in his nature itself to exclude 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 445 

the possibility of his perfection, and nothing in 
his circumstances to exclude the possibilhVy of his 
continually going on towards perfection. 

While, therefore, we give up human perfection, 
we stand fast for human perfectibility. There are 
no arbitrary or determinate bounds set to any 
man's progress in this life, whatever may be his 
condition and circumstances. You cannot say, 
" He can go so far, and there he must stop. He 
can go so far, and there he will meet a bar which 
will make further progress impossible." There is 
no such bar. The way is open to every one ; or, 
if not entirely open, there is nothing in the nature 
of the obstructions which makes them absolutely 
insuperable. I do not say that, in every instance, 
a man can leap over these obstructions at an easy 
or a single bound. Sometimes he will be able to 
surmount them only by patience and toil ; and 
sometimes he will have to cut his way through 
them with courage and force. All I affirm is, that 
there is nothing in the nature of these obstruc- 
tions, or of any other obstructions, which must 
needs bring his self-improvement to a stand for 
a da}' or an hour, so long as his faculties retain 
their natural vigor. Even while struggling with 
the difficulty in question, and before he has suc- 
ceeded in mastering it, if he struggles manfully 
and in a true spirit, he is continually growing 



446 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



wiser and better and stronger in himself through 
the new demand thus made on his energies, and 
the new exercise to which his faculties are thus 
put. I repeat it, then : no limit is fixed or can 
be fixed to any man's progress, so long as his 
faculties retain their natural vigor, except by his 
own consent. I do not say, simply, that man is 
a progressive being, but also that he is a being 
capable of unlimited progress ; so that, of course, 
there is nothing too high for him to aim at, and 
nothing too good or too great to become the object 
of his aspirations. 

This is all which I understand the Scriptures to 
mean in the text, and in other passages where they 
enjoin it upon us to be perfect, to go on unto per- 
fection, and to become perfect men in Christ Jesus. 
They do not hold up this perfection as something 
of which any Christian can as yet be personally 
conscious, or on which he can look back as already 
attained ; but as the goal in the distance after which 
all can and should continually aspire. " Not as 
though I had already attained," said an apostle, 
"or ivere already perfect; but I follow after, if that 
I may apprehend that for which also I am appre- 
hended of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I count not 
myself to have apprehended ; but this one thing I 
do, — forgetting those things which are behind, 
and reaching forth unto those things which are 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 447 



before, I press toward the mark for the prize of 
the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." 

So far, then, and only so far, can the Christian 
doctrine of human perfectibility be fairly urged. 
Man is not only made capable of progress, but, 
with the aids which the Gospel supplies, of un- 
limited progress. The consequence is, that he 
cannot only conceive of an ideal perfection, and 
see that perfection realized in Jesus Christ, but 
make it the object of his own aspirations, — not 
in his dreams , alone, but in actual life, as there 
really is nothing in the way of his continually ad- 
vancing towards it but the weakness or the per- 
verseness of his own will. It is man himself who 
sets limits to his own wisdom and virtue ; and this 
he does by resting content with the degree of wis- 
dom and virtue he has already attained, or by 
not choosing to make the efforts or the sacrifices 
necessary to further progress. It is a false and 
mean shifting of the blame from himself on some- 
thing else, to say that these limits Avere ordained 
by his nature, or his circumstances, or his Creator. 
It never is so. I do not suppose that all men, 
with their different capacities and opportunities, 
are capable of an equally rapid progress ; but I 
do suppose that they are equally capable of mak- 
ing some progress, and this, too, without limit, 
intermission, or end. There are no exceptions to 



448 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



this law. It is the universal condition of hu- 
manity. I know that we are not all spirit. We 
have a body as well as a soul, — a body with its 
grovelling appetites and tastes, and earthly ten- 
dencies, to weigh us clown and keep us from real- 
izing in this life many of our brightest visions. 
But even while we continue connected with this 
body, and in some sense the slaves of it, we do 
not work like slaves tethered to a pillar or a rock, 
which will let us go so far and no farther. We 
work rather like slaves with a clog, — we can go as 
far as we please, only we must cany our clog with 
us ; but with this cheering consciousness from day 
to day, that, the greater our progress in wisdom 
and virtue, the less the clog is felt, until it is 
hardly perceptible as an obstacle, or even as a 
burden, in our onward course. 

And here let it be distinctly understood, that, 
when we speak of human perfectibility, we do not 
bring it in as a weak rhetorical flourish, or as a 
fine-sounding word which will help to point a 
moral or turn a period. We mean all that we 
assert ; we bring into notice a sober fact, which 
has much to do with the direction and govern- 
ment of every man's daily conduct. We can go on 
continually towards perfection, though we never 
arrive at it ; we can make it to be our goal in the 
distance, after which we are continually to aspire, 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIANS AIM. 449 

and which in reality we can and ought continually 
to approximate. If we stop in the way, it is of 
our oivn accord, and not because we are obliged 
to stop. We can go on, if we please. Some, 
doubtless, can go on faster than others ; but ail 
can go on. This is the great truth which lies at 
the bottom of every well-grounded and immortal 
hope ; which we are not at liberty to wink out of 
sight, or overlay and bury up under miserable 
commonplaces borrowed from superficial views of 
life and human nature, or the shortsighted cun- 
ning of this world. Bring me the man who has 
become so wise that he cannot become an}?- wiser. 
You cannot do it. Bring me the man who has 
become so good that he cannot become any better. 
You cannot do it. You cannot fill a man's mind 
with knowledge until it cannot hold any more, as 
you can fill a vessel with water until it cannot hold 
any more. On the contrary, every new acquisition 
of truth only serves to enlarge his mind for the 
comprehension of more truth, so that the more 
he knows the more is he in a condition to learn. 
And the same is likewise true of his progress in 
virtue. Because he mastered one bad habit yester- 
day, that has not destroyed but only increased his 
power to master another bad habit to-day ; because 
he put forth one new virtue yesterday, that has 
not destroyed but only increased his power to put 

CC 



450 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



forth another to-day : and so on, without any as- 
signable limits. The Bible fixes no limits, our 
nature fixes none ; neither reason nor imagination 
can fix any. But this ability to go on involves the 
obligation to go on. If he stops, no matter in what 
stage of his progress, he goes backward ; for in 
stopping he ceases to improve, — and this is not 
merely not to obey, it is to disobey. He must 
go on ; and thus it is, and only thus, that the 
path of the righteous, at first dimly and uncer- 
tainly seen, grows brighter and brighter to the 
perfect day. 

Let me add, that I express the doctrine too 
tamely when I say that a man is capable of un- 
limited progress. There burns within him an 
instinctive desire of growth, of ceaseless progress. 
This principle begins to manifest itself long before 
that of a cool and calculating selfishness. You see 
it in the boy, who is not satisfied unless he can spin 
his top, or fly his kite, better and better ; and he 
would feel this desire, and find pleasure in its 
gratification, even if he dwelt alone on a deso- 
late island, apart from all thoughts of interest or 
rivalship. Or if you call it rivalship, then I should 
say that every man is made, in the very constitu- 
tion of his nature, to be the rival of his past self. 
We see it also in the artist, whose eye has caught 
glimpses of an unearthly beauty, which he strives 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 451 

to bring out and embody on the canvas or in mar- 
ble. And at last, perhaps, he succeeds ; but now 
his eye has caught glimpses of a beauty still more 
transcendent, and he is not satisfied until he can 
realize that. And thus it is that his ideal of ex- 
cellence in art for ever flies before him ; but not 
in vain, as it only flies to beckon him on from ex- 
cellence to excellence, and from glory to glory. 
The same principle takes effect also in our whole 
moral and spiritual life ; for we are so made, that, 
if our minds are in a healthy state, we are never 
entirely satisfied with what we are. We are 
always seeking to rival and outdo our former 
selves ; but no harm is likely to come of emula- 
tion or of competition, so long as a man is his own 
rival : or of ambition, if it does but consist in this 
inextinguishable thirst for excellence itself. 

There is however one danger to be apprehended 
from a too exclusive occupation of the mind on 
ideal visions of excellence and perfection, which I 
ought to notice distinctly before I conclude. Per- 
sons of this description, it has been said, " are deeply 
impressed with the idea that they are required to be 
'perfect before God; but their idea of perfection 
being altogether of an abstract and spiritual char- 
acter, the zealous fulfilment of ordinary duties, 
and a conscientious attention to common transac- 
tions, seem to have no affinity to their object ; and 



452 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIANS AIM. 



hence they direct all their longings to a state of 
spiritual and vague feeling, of which they know 
not either the form or limits, and the desire of 
which has no tendency but to unfit them for all 
effectual and successful discharge of the duties of 
life. It is perhaps the besetting error of those who 
are commonly denominated serious and pious men ; 
and it is also not unfrequently the last refuge of 
those, who, having run, in preceding portions of 
then: lives, a career of thoughtlessness and folly, 
at last betake themselves to this vain sighing after 
perfection, — instead of devoting themselves, as true 
wisdom would direct them, to a zealous and perse- 
vering reformation of their whole plan of life, and 
to an effectual discharge of every duty pointed out 
to them, as active and social, as religious and 
moral beings." 

There is much good sense and force in this cau- 
tion ; but it only shows that the instinctive desire 
of perfection, which is wrought into our very con- 
stitution, may be misconceived, perverted, and 
abused. The idea of perfection is held up before 
us, not to be the object of vain longings and sigh- 
ings, but to cheer and sustain us in the many weary 
steps we must take in its pursuit. We are still to 
reflect that we must actually traverse, with our own 
feet, the almost measureless distance that separates 
us from the far-off goal ; and also, that, if a man is to 



PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S ATM. 453 



go round the globe, lie cannot take any longer strides 
than if he were going to the next village. Besides, 
perfection after all is our ultimate object ; not our 
next and immediate object. Our next and imme- 
diate object, both as men and as Christians, is 
always the faithful discharge of the common and 
obvious and present duties which press upon us in 
that particular sphere of activity, be it high or low, 
in which Divine Providence has placed us. 

Only a small and comparatively inconsiderable 
part of this unlimited progress in knowledge and 
holiness is to be wrought out here, even by the 
most diligent and best disposed. But we can be- 
gin it here ; perhaps I ought to say, we must begin 
it here ; for there may be something in the charac- 
ter of the first attainments of spiritual growth, in 
consequence of which, if we throw away our oppor- 
tunity of making them here, it may never be offered 
to us again. Heaven itself, for aught we know to 
the contrary, may be a place in which it is impos- 
sible for a man to begin a life of faith and prayer. 
However this may be, is it not a glorious thought 
that we can begin the career of angels and arch- 
angels in these dwellings of dust? How much 
more glorious the thought, that, when these dwell- 
ings of dust are dissolved, we shall "be clothed 
upon with our house which is from heaven ! " Bat 
who shall dare to anticipate, even in imagination, 



454 PERFECTION THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM. 



the stupendous disclosures that are to burst upon 
the disembodied spirit ? Of one thing, however, 
we may be sure ; a never-ending, ever-brightening 
career of knowledge, improvement, and happiness 
will still spread itself out before the followers of 
Christ, — the same which they began here. And, 
along the innumerable ranks of the heavenly host, 
a voice will still be heard proclaiming the law, 
" Let us go on unto perfection ! " 



1831. 




Cambridge : Press of John Wilson & Son. 



